


Speak No Evil

by TalesOfOnyxBats



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Romance, F/F, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Manipulation, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Recovery, Redemption, Romance, self-harm ideation, thoughts of self harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:59:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 27,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27420826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalesOfOnyxBats/pseuds/TalesOfOnyxBats
Summary: Azula, in the middle of a rocky redemption/recovery peruses an even shakier relationship with TyLee. Communication is difficult enough before she had lost the ability to speak.
Relationships: Azula/Ty Lee (Avatar)
Comments: 175
Kudos: 267





	1. A Pretty Night

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: In case you didn't notice the tag, this story contains faking incest.

It is a nice night by most standards, a truly, genuinely beautiful night. Anyone would agree. Even she agrees. She has to when the facts are so objective. The temperature is just right it isn’t smoldering and it certainly isn’t cold. Azula always has been fond of the subtle rhythms created by palm fronds shaken by the wind. A gust that is subtle yet alluringly fragrant. She isn’t well versed in flora so she can’t name the precise scent, but it is floral and has a fruity tang. She thinks maybe pineapple and that the fruits may be in bloom at the moment. Everything is lush and green and the sand she lays in is soft. Albeit she isn’t fond of sand; it is messy and always lodges itself in the smallest, most unsavory places on the body. Namely she hates when it burrows under her nails, both finger and toe. And it is damn near impossible to shake out of her hair.

She would rather not be laying in the sand. 

But she has a nice view of the stars. They carefully arrange themselves into the most aesthetically pleasing alignment that they possibly can. They twinkle around a sliver of a moon. Just as she is no botanist, Azula is also not an astronomer; she can’t spot the constellations and she isn’t sure of which phase of the moon she is seeing. 

The water also has its own charm. It’s steady rush and churning is a nice addition to the rustling fronds and the occasional iguana-parrot call. The toad-squirrels are also very lively tonight. Everything makes noise. 

Everything but her.

**.oOo.**

_ She had been home only for perhaps two months. Three times the charm, or so they say; she was coming out of her fourth relapse and was feeling no better about her psyche and overall health and wellbeing. _

_ TyLee was waiting for her at the turtle-duck pond. TyLee always waited for her there. Well, always was a bit of a stretch. Sometimes she thought that TyLee couldn’t even stand to look at her, much less sit down and converse with her for a half an hour or better.  _

_ But that day TyLee was waiting for her. Waiting and smiling as gleefully as ever. _

_ That was because she didn’t know… _

_ Granted, Azula hadn’t known either.  _

_ She sat herself at a good distance from the pond itself but near enough for TyLee to reach out and touch her.  _

_ “Good morning, Azula! How are you feeling today!?” _

_ And that was it really. Perhaps she was in a mood, she must have been, because that was all it had taken. She was tired of that question over and over again. How patronizing it was to always have people inquiring about her moods as if they had any right to know. She didn’t need to constantly report back to them about her emotional state.  _

_ “I’m fine.” She snapped.  _

_ TyLee’s smile faded into a dull look of distress. She thought that the woman might have even flinched. This too, sent her reeling. That TyLee still didn’t trust her enough to not wince every time she expressed displeasure. “Stop looking at me like that.”  _

_ “L-like what?” TyLee asked.  _

_ “That!” Another flinch told her that she had raised her voice. She didn’t think that she had raised it that much. “Like you're still afraid of me.” _

_ “I am still afraid of you.” TyLee confessed abruptly before bringing her hands to cover her mouth.  _

_ Azula looked over the little bundle of flowers that TyLee had laid down next to a platter of strawberry cheesecake and the petals that she had sprinkled around the dainty teacups. It was arranged so flatteringly and her favorite flavor of mochi sat neatly at the center of the picnic blanket. _

_ It wasn’t a gesture of love, Azula concluded, but one of fear. TyLee had gone to great lengths because she was afraid of what the princess would do if she didn’t. _

_ Azula surmised that all of this was foolishness, that it was all a lie. That she had wasted her time thinking that there could ever be trust and love without fear. She swallowed once before the pangs of regret and sadness gave way to anger and frustration. It was more self directed but that didn’t stop TyLee from wincing again.  _

_ Azula wished that she wouldn’t have. Maybe if TyLee hadn't winced...hadn’t made her feel like one, she wouldn’t have become a monster.  _

_ Again. _

_ She sneered, her eyes flashing with a fury that even she was plainly aware was unwarranted. “Oh, I haven’t given you a reason to be afraid yet, but I can.” _

_ “You already have.” _

_ “So that’s what this is then? You only put this,” she gestures to the food, “together because you’re afraid of what I would have done if you...” _

_ “I put it together because it makes you happy. And you’ve been so upset lately...” _

_ She gave a bitter laugh. “Don’t lie to me, TyLee. You’re a dreadful liar. I know what you think of me...” _

_ “Azula...” _

_ She lifts her hand up. “Just clean all of this up, I hate strawberries anyways.” She lies. “Just like I’ve always hated your ditzy, happy-go-lucky facade.”  _

**.oOo.**

But she never hated any of it. Truly, it was and is what keeps her hanging on. From entirely losing herself again. She supposes that it doesn’t matter anymore. It is too late to take it back. It is too late to do anything anymore. 

To do anything but lay there and wish her struggles away. 

Blood trickles from the side of her mouth.

She should have done better.

She should be better. 

She promised TyLee that she would, but she had lied again. She didn’t mean it, but it has been done. It can’t be salvaged. She can’t be salvaged. She is well aware that she has been running through chance after chance and she doesn’t think that she has many left, if any at all. 

She wishes that she were a better person. 

She wishes that she knew how to love a person correctly...

She has a lot of wishes.

There is a lot of blood. The trickle is more like a steady floor. It fills her mouth. Swallow or spit, more comes up to replace it. She touches a trembling hand to the side of her mouth. It is so thickly slick. 

But the night is so pretty, so glorious, so lushly fragrant and the night noise is so soothing. She thinks that it may be trying to hum her to sleep. She thinks that when she goes to sleep that she will wake amid those diamond-dust clouds or that she won’t wake at all. 

She shouldn’t but she does.

She closes her eyes. 

_ “Just clean all of this up, I hate strawberries anyways. Just like I’ve always hated your ditzy, happy-go-lucky facade.”  _

She wishes that it weren’t the last thing she had said. 


	2. A Gold-Blue Wisp

It is all fuzzy now. She doesn’t remember how she got home and she can’t quite place where she had been before she got there. She just knows that she had been somewhere else and that she is in the palace infirmary now. 

She remembers that she had stormed off after a heated argument--argument implies that there had been some pushback, she reminds herself--but she doesn’t know where to. Really she ought to be trying to recollect what had happened. Instead she finds herself wishing that TyLee had yelled back. Had told her that she is an awful person or that she isn’t as great as she tries to be. Anything that could paint the princess herself in a better light. 

But the facts are all there; as per usual she is malicious. She is everything that Mai has been telling TyLee to avoid and get away from. 

Azula can’t say that she has expected any different, no one is there by her bedside to greet her and no one comes to check on her for a better part of the day. When the palace doctor does come by, she flatly asks the princess how she feels before flinching to herself. Azula isn’t sure why the woman is cringing until she opens her mouth to speak. 

And she remembers. 

She remembers all of it. 

She touches her fingers to her throat, tears prickle at her eyes. She shudders; what has she done to herself? She should have stayed within the palace and waited for her episode to play through. She should have done a lot of things and she shouldn’t have done a great deal more. 

The nurse awkwardly shuffles out, likely to fetch Zuko. But an hour goes by and no one else shows up. Her mind wanders. Wanders back to a gorgeous night, a night that feels like a distant memory. 

**.oOo.**

_ Her mind was distant, still moving in circles, unable to leave that morning’s argument. The more she thought about it, the worse it felt, the more assured she is that she is a bad women. Perhaps the worst. That TyLee has and always did deserve better. Better than her manipulations and her biting remarks.  _

_ It came to her then that she could make things better. She needed words to twist and a silky, pretty voice to speak them with. She wouldn’t be able to eloquently lie and connive if she hadn't’ a voice to do it with. By extension, she couldn’t hurt TyLee if she couldn’t speak.  _

_ She looked towards the sky and at the blade in her hand. She wandered further away from the palace, there were too many people about. She had thought of that, but put no consideration into what would happen if she didn’t have the strength to walk herself back to the palace. She would bleed out, surely, but that didn’t yet register.  _

_ She wandered until she reached the Capital City green, a thick spot of preserved jungle. The blade shook in her grasp. Even at the climax of her insanity, she had the sense to be afraid. But she is a strong woman. She has always been a strong woman. Her mind raced in silence, she had a mission and she was going to see it through.  _

_ She stood in a beam of moonlight, it caught and glinted on the blade as she brought it to her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut and her stomach lolled as came to lick metal. She pushed the blade down with more force and was met with the taste of copper. The blade fell from her hand as she doubled over, nearly hurling. She felt sick and dizzy. Her world going fuzzy with anxiety and agony and she had yet to sever her tongue all the way through. She dropped to her knees and fumbled for the blade. It nipped her trembling hand and she reflexifly pulled back with a hiss. _

_ She couldn’t do it. She didn’t even have the dignity to finish what she started. The sound that broke from her throat was gurgled and tortured. The princess found that pain was quite sobering. Lucidity was working its way back in and she wished that it would retract again.  _

_ She picked up the bloodied blade and conflictingly thanked her senses for coming back on time to stop her from slashing at her mouth with a dirty blade. But she could still talk and that was no good. She still had enough madness left to make her way out of the capital and into the jungle.  _

_ Since the war’s end it has been teeming with spirits. She couldn’t imagine that it was going to be too hard to find one of them to steal her voice from her. Her bloodline wasn’t well loved and the spirits always did have an inclination for poetic justice.  _

_ She was growing very faint and began to wonder if they would ever find her. Likely they would when her absence was noted and extensive sweeps were done. They would find her, face down with blood drooling from her mouth.  _

_ The spirits largely ignored her until she began her endless tirade. Eventually one of them would grow tired of her and shut her up. They proved to be surprisingly patient. And perhaps it was because they couldn’t understand her slurs and curses. Much of her speech was lost to swelling and wetness. She couldn’t be certain for how long she had ranted and raved and vowed to throw the universe out of balance, but they finally grew tired of her.  _

_ She had the sense to be afraid when the first of them paused to stare at her and the sense to be terrified when the rest of them caught on. She had the sense to be petrified when she realized that she had made a mistake. That she wouldn’t be able to simply undo this.  _

_ “No, wait.” She managed weakly. She couldn’t even understand her own words. She stumbled back and, growing dizzier by the minute, hit the ground below. That was when it first registered how truly lovely the night was; how friendly the temperature, how gentle the sounds… _

_ They were on her in seconds but one towered over the rest. It was a tall and willowy thing. Elegant. Gentle looking. It shimmered like stars reflected on a sea. The creature, she deduced, was made of many strands of iridescent wisps. Or perhaps, the iridescent wisps were merely perpetually gravitating around it.  _

_ And when it spoke it’s voice was tiered. High and low all at once. Harsh and smooth. Masculine and feminine. Loud and soft. “Princess, Azula.” Her name on its tongue was every bit as pleasing as it was damming. Azula’s lips curled up into a sad smile; the sound of the start of her undoing was gorgeous.  _

_ She let herself go passive, her trembling subsiding. She thought that her brain might have solemnly accepting the fate that it had led her to.  _

_ “You have provoked a powerful bunch.” It gestured about the jungle. She was well aware. “We should have you killed.” _

_ She hadn’t thought of that but she found herself nodding. Nodding in agreement. It was probably for the best… _

_ Her body went tense and her throat restricted. There was a tugging and a yanking, she felt as though she were being choked. She squeezed her eyes shut, unsure if the tears that dripped down her cheek were born of emotion or the throes of death.  _

_ She knew by the end of it, when she was left shaking and sobbing, that they were born of emotion because she hadn’t been dying at all. Merely suffering. There was a throbbing in her throat, the remaining residue of her voice. And it hurt. It hurt in a strangely numb and hollow way.  _

_ She watched a thin golden-blue wisp curl vividly around the spirit’s long neck. It pulsed and beat with the throbbing ache of her throat. The spirit spoke and she could feel it in her throat. The others gather around it to listen. “Such a pretty voice, wasted on such evil things.” It commented. She can never be sure if it was a trick of her mind or the intent of the spirit, but her own voice spoke back to her, louder than the rest. “I will use it better.”  _

_ She couldn’t bring herself to disagree.  _

_ It might have been absurd, but in the wake of the spirits, she found herself wondering if she could have had herself a singing career.  _

**.oOo.**

The nurse is back and Azula calls out to her. Though her mouth does move and the muscles in her throat do work, no sound comes forth. It isn’t that she has forgotten, she is well aware that she wouldn’t utter another sound. It is more or less a habit. She thinks to stand and tap the woman on the shoulder but it would be pointless; she can’t communicate that she wants to see Zuko or TyLee. 

She rises from the bed anyhow and the nurse comes to beckon her back down. She shakes her head vigorously. 

“Princess, you have to rest.” 

She shakes her head again and gestures to the door. She mouths her request, that she wants to see TyLee. Either the nurse doesn’t understand or she doesn’t care. Her stomach tightens as she tries to force out a sound that she knows won’t come. The nurse firmly pushes Azula back onto the mattress. “Don’t do anything that is going to further compromise your health.”

Azula rolls onto her side, face bunching up into an ugly, silent sob. She realizes that she can’t even vocalize that much; a wet pillow and tear streaked cheeks are the only indication that she has spent the hour crying to herself. 

No one visits her. 

They are angry at her again. 

She is alone again. 

She thinks that she has probably been alone this whole time, she only notices it now because her loneliness is physical. 

The only people that come to see her in the passing days are a steady rotation of palace staff. If only she could tell them to put her down. She waits for them to vacate before getting to her feet. Physically, Azula feels rather well. Even if it is an illusion, she can’t bring herself to regard her own well-being. 

They have her dressed in only a soft pink medical shift and long socks. She must be quite a sight, meandering about the halls. She finds Zuko, Mai, and TyLee gathered around a pai-sho board, laughing and conversing. She swallows, her breath catching in her throat. She balls her fists and takes a step forward before turning to retreat. 

She feels a hand on her shoulder. “You should be in the infirmary.” 

She opens her mouth to ask him why he hasn’t come to see her. She closes it again. She doesn’t need to ask anyways, she knows that it is because he is angry with her. She stares at him. 

“Come on.” She resists his gentle push and makes one of her own. Shoving past him, she finds herself a seat near Mai and TyLee. She knows that she is unwanted, but she wants to be wanted and so she stubbornly holds her ground. 

“Azula.” Zuko says through gritted teeth. “They told me that you were found in the jungle bleeding from the mouth. You have to go back…”

She shakes her head, points to the spot she sits in, and folds her arms over her chest. 

“Come on, Azula.” He takes her by the crook of her elbow. She looks to TyLee and Mai. TyLee averts her gaze and Mai scoffs. 

Azula reaches out to caress TyLee’s cheek, Mai slaps her hand away. “Don’t you dare touch her.” She hisses. 

Azula’s finds that her stomach is getting queasy again. She has never hurt TyLee, not like that. She never would. She doesn’t realize that she is trying to say as much until Mai’s brows furrow. She stops trying to talk. 

TyLee peers at her with wide, sad eyes. It occurs to her that, even if she could put aside her pride long enough, that she wouldn’t even be able to apologize to the woman. She swallows and bites the inside of her lip. She flinches in pain as her freshly stitched tongue hits the roof of her mouth, even still, she makes no sound. 

“Y-you can’t talk?” TyLee notes, it is somewhere between a question and an observation. 

Zuko’s hold loosens as Azula gives a confirming nod. 

“Oh, Azula.” TyLee remarks softly. “What did you do?”

“No.” Mai grumbles. “No. She did this to herself and just because she hurt herself, that doesn’t mean that she gets to get away with hurting you again.” 

“But…” TyLee starts. 

“No, TyLee. She can deal with this on her own. You cleaned up that picnic for her, she can clean up her own mess this time.” 

_ ‘I’m trying.’ _ She mouths. But she doesn’t believe herself either. She lets Zuko walk her back to the infirmary. She waits for him to leave before pulling the blankets around herself and bunching up. She feels sick. She thinks that she has finally forged herself a conundrum that she can’t work her way out of. 

Even still, she knows that she has to fix things. Yet she doesn’t even know where to start nor how.


	3. A Promise Of The Day After

They still don’t visit her. She finds herself staring numb and thoughtlessly at the ceiling. Her throat aches and for a moment she thinks that that is a good thing. Sensation means that she can feel. And if she can feel then that means...

She tries to call out fir the nurse to fetch her a glass of water.

Instead of vocals there is a pounding sensation at the base of her neck. It feels something like heartburn and she wonders if rejection and isolation can induce such.

She brushes her fingers upon her neck and tries to massage it. Tears sting in her eyes, she has only made the sensation worse.

She is starting to rethink trying to get a drink. But then, that might help. She rolls into her side. Her tongue is stinging too and every time she accidentally touches it to the roof of her mouth she is met with a sting that bursts and shoots all the way down her throat.

The doctors don’t come to check on her and she is getting restless. She forces herself out of bed. She’ll have to fix herself a glass of water in her own. She pads along the hallway accompanied only by a sense that there is no point; that she should let her throat run dry and lay there until thirst claims her. Things would be simpler if she did. With her head dipped and her eyes fixed on the ground, she isn’t paying attention to where she is going and only remembers to do so after ramming into Zuko.

“What are you doing?” The hint of frustration in his voice doesn’t go undetected. She is rather accustomed to picking out those sorts of subtleties. “You’re supposed to be in the infirmary.”

She tries to move past him but he catches her arm. His grip is too rough. “Are you listening to me?”

She is partially but they don’t quite stick. She can’t convey this so she settles for a lackluster affirmative nod. 

“Go back to bed, Azula.” 

She shakes her head. She will get her water and then she will return to bed.

“Stop being so stubborn, Azula.” 

Looks around for something to gesture at, a cup, a painting of a stream, anything to indicate that she only wants a glass of water. She isn’t sure why it comes as such a shock to find that there aren’t many depictions of water in the fire palace. She settles for mouthing her request instead but Zuko has never been good at reading lips. 

He knits his brows as he seems to recall something. “Are you still having trouble talking?”

She yearns to ask him what would ever lead him to that conclusion.

“I didn’t think that you were hurt  _ that  _ bad.” 

Even if she could speak she thinks that she might have just stood with a blank stare. She makes another attempt to move past him. He sidesteps. “If it’s bad enough that you can’t talk then you should get back…”

Frustrations builds and her hands grow hot and, just as quickly, her temper cools as an idea crosses her mind. She takes a few steps back and shapes a fiery ‘W’ in the air. A-T-E-R. Zuko’s face scrunches. She spells it for him again. And then a third time. 

“You want water?”

She nods. 

“Hasn’t the nurse…?”

She shakes her head and his own annoyance seems to dissipate. She brushes by him again, this time he lets her go by but she can hear him tailing behind her. She finds herself a glass and fills it. It intensifies the ache as it remedies the dryness. Her face tightens with discomfort, a soundless wince. She has another glass anyways. 

“Are you ready to go back to the infirmary?” 

She is ready to go curl up in her own bed. She will let him figure that out for himself. Her bed is infinitely more comfortable and it gives her some sort of illusion of being less alone. The nurses don’t check on her often enough for it to be worth staying in that dismal infirmary. 

He follows her to her room but she closes the door on him before he can enter. 

Sometimes she doesn’t understand herself. She had just been brooding over her loneliness. Decidedly, Zuko isn’t the company she wants. And it isn’t as though he had come to visit her, he probably wasn’t thinking of her at all. She just so happened to collide with him. 

“Azula, let me in.” 

She lays down and pulls the covers up to her chin. She isn’t sure if she will leave her bed again, she doesn’t exactly have a reason to. Evidently, it is probably better if she doesn’t. Perhaps enough space and time will allow for TyLee to move on and find someone who will treat her right, if she hasn’t already. She wouldn’t be surprised to find that she has. She is every bit as charming of personality as she is of face. 

Azula thinks of that face; soft and kind and cheerful. Cheerful when she doesn’t have to put up with a vicious princess. These days she looks more sullen, she is missing her spark. 

**.oOo.**

_ Sitting by the windowsill had become a pass time for the princess since coming home from the institution. Mostly she looked out over the guards changing shifts or posts. Sometimes it was bright and sunny, other times rained. Occasionally there was a fog. She liked those days the most; they were gloomy in a distant way that she could connect to.  _

_ There was one day where she had observed with a sense of longing. It was the day that the Avatar and his friends came for a visit. She watched from the window as they lept off of the bison. They hugged and embraced. Even from a distance she could tell that Zuko was grinning from ear to ear. _

_ She pressed her forehead to the windowpane and watched TyLee jump and flounce around with such a hyper vigor. She recalls thinking that she had never seen TyLee look so--what would she say?--pink of aura. _

_ At that point she had been away from Azula for at least three years. Azula supposed that, that would be enough time to recover and rejuvenate.  _

_ It wasn’t enough for her though.  _

_ She had been home for a little over a month but she couldn’t say that she felt any better about any aspect of herself or her life. Of what she had become, of what was surely going to become of her.  _

_ She turned her attention back outward. She watched the group make merry until the sun fell. She could hear lively music. There was food and some bending banter. She only recalled that it was Mai’s birthday when they started showering her with gifts.  _

_ This had become something of a routine; Azula would observe from afar, the joys and jubilance that occurred without her. And then she would go to sleep wishing that she was the sort of person who belonged at a party.  _

_ Each day that she observed TyLee, the girl seemed in good spirits.  _

_ And for a while she stayed that way, even after Azula emerged from her room, disheveled and distraught; loneliness and desperation reaching their peak.  _

_ The last time that TyLee was truly TyLee was the day before Azula had swallowed her pride to beg for another chance.  _

**.oOo.**

Azula concludes that she has taken and continues to take the gleam out of TyLee’s eyes. Sucks the joy out of her life. TyLee is only a fourth of who she usually is when she is around her. 

She tries to think of a time when she had made TyLee smile. She thinks that the last time was back when they were chasing down the Avatar together. She isn’t sure that, that one was genuine.

She finds herself torn between going down to talk...have some kind of nonverbal conversation with TyLee and just letting things lie. It will be better for her if she can muster up the courage to visit TyLee. It is better for TyLee if she just marinates in her misery.

She promises herself that she will join them for breakfast in the morning, even if she can’t eat it properly. 

She promises herself the same thing the next day.

And the day after. 

And the day after. 

And the day after...


	4. Silence Of The Roses

It is only when she can bear the loneliness no more that Azula finally makes her way out of bed. Her lethargy is now less pain related and more so the product of mood. She can smell eggs and steamed rice as she nears the dining room. Zuko, TyLee, and Mai are well into their breakfast. They don’t notice her until she slips into her chair. She gestures for a bowl and Zuko passes it to her. 

She thinks that she would be eating in silence even if she didn’t have to. Her gaze is fixed upon the bowl in front of her as though she can read the answers to her problems in the residue at the bottom of her bowl. Uncle mentioned that tea leaves could be used for divination, she wonders if she can foresee her life in a bowl of steamed rice. It is absurd to think about, but infinitely less painful than everything else. 

They don’t attempt to engage her in conversation and she begins to wonder if she feels more or less lonely when she is physically alone. She thinks that it is somehow worse to be around everyone and ignored. 

Soon the bowl of rice and the steam that rises from it are distant to her own inner thoughts. 

She hadn’t realized that she hasn’t actually taken a bite yet until Zuko softly asks, “are you going to eat?”

She nods and forces herself to take a bite or two but she finds that she isn’t all too hungry. She pushes her barely touched bowl to the side, rises, and pushes her chair in. “Azula, wait.” Zuko calls just as gently. She pauses but doesn’t look back. “Come sit back down.”

Azula hesitates before sitting down again. 

“Are you doing better?”

She shakes her head. 

“You look tired.” TyLee notes. 

At this Azula nods. She can’t express just how tired she is. But resting her arms on the table and burying her head in her arms is a good start. She feels a hand rubbing her back, Zuko’s most likely. 

“You still can’t talk?” She hears TyLee ask.

She lifts her head and gives it another shake, her expression dimming further. TyLee offers her a sympathetic frown and takes the princess’ hand. She could cry and this time the tears would be born of relief. TyLee rubs the back of her hand and squeezes.

Azula reaches for her steamed rice and forces herself to eat at least half before pushing it to the side again. 

Her stomach is still queasy as she clutches TyLee’s hand back. She stands and gives the woman’s hand a soft tug. She could use some fresh air. More than that, she could use some alone time with TyLee. 

“Azula, where are we going? I’m not done eating.”

Azula lets go and waits for her to finish. She thinks that the atmosphere might be less tense now. She chances to think that they aren’t as furious with her as she had thought. At least TyLee and Zuko aren’t. She can feel Mai’s piercing stare. It isn’t the first time. In fact, every time she falls back into old mannerisms, Mai treats her with a coldness that equals her own.

But this time is different. She can feel that it is. She thinks that she has messed up too many times now. That Mai’s patience and trust have run out. It is different because she can’t find the energy to spit venom back. 

Maybe that is a good thing. She only garners deeper resentment when she does.

Maybe it truly is better if she never speaks another word. That she has done herself a favor in making it so. 

“Do you want to go to your room, Azula?”

She shakes her head and points to the window. 

“The garden?” 

Azula nods. 

“For a walk or do you just want to sit by the pond?”

Azula makes a walking gesture with her pointer and middle fingers. She stands up again and this time TyLee follows. 

“You’re really going to do this?” Mai sighs. 

“It’s just a walk, Mai.” 

“It’s always just a walk.” Mai scoffs. “Remember the last time you went on a walk. She spent it yelling at you for causing her to relapse. She got mad at you for making her mad at you.”

“I don’t think that she’s going to do much yelling.” Zuko remarks. Her stomach lurches. 

**.oOo.**

The garden is particularly verdant today, the scents of the flora it teems with his lush and refreshing and makes Azula feel as though things might be okay after all. She reaches for TyLee’s hand and her hope crumbles like a dead petal. “Not yet, Azula.” It is in her tone, she is still angry. Unusually so and Azula is under the impression that she has only agreed to this walk so that they may, in some manner or another, converse in private. 

She feels a flicker of agitation that dies away when she recalls that, that is what she had in mind as well. They walk side by side not attempting any sort of conversation at all for the longest time. Finally TyLee asks, “why do you always treat me like that?”

Azula tilts her head. 

“You say that you love me and whenever I do something wrong…” she trails off. “You only love me when do everything right. You want me to be perfect…”

Azula holds a finger to her lips. 

“No, Azula. It’s not fair.”

Azula presses that same finger to TyLee’s lips. She doesn’t find it endearing in the slightest. “Even when you can’t talk, you interrupt me. Do you even care what I have to say?” 

She flinches and nods.

“Then listen to me.” She frowns. “You want me to be perfect…” Azula resists the urge to shake her head. “But I can’t be. And I’m tired of trying. I arrange a nice picnic for you and there’s still a problem.” 

Azula shakes her head. 

“Yes, there is a problem, there always is with you.”

She shakes her head again, that isn’t what she means. She means that the problem wasn’t TyLee. It never was. It usually isn’t. But then she gives an affirmative nod; the problem is with her. 

TyLee furrows her brows. Azula looks around for something to write with. She doesn’t think that the gardeners would take well to her burning an entire conversation into the grass, and she certainly doesn’t want it to be this one. 

She settles for something simple. She reaches for TyLee’s hand and mouths a sorry. She finds that it is easier to apologize when she doesn’t actually have to bring the words out of her mouth. TyLee still pulls her hand away. 

Azula swallows. Her belly burns with sorrow and rage. She doesn’t know which takes precedence. She yearns to ask TyLee what she can do. Or perhaps longs to be able to speak her mind fully, that she doesn’t want TyLee to be afraid of her. That she had been feeling doubtful on the day of their picnic and had expressed it exactly how her doctors advised against. And in doing so, she proved that TyLee was right to be afraid and mistrustful of her. That she knows it, she is aware and wants to fix it. 

She can only grasp at her hand once more and mouth another apology. 

TyLee looks no less angry and continues to walk. Azula doesn’t follow, she doesn’t see the point. She finds herself wandering in the opposite direction, towards the pond where she has a seat and stares into the water. It is so still, crystalline and pure. She tears her eyes away from the water and stares at her palms. She plucks a flower and twirls it between her fingers. And an idea comes to her. 

TyLee likes flowers. Sometimes she sees Zuko bringing Mai flowers after a fight. She only has the one but if TyLee likes it, she can gather more. She hustles to catch up with her girlfriend and taps her on the shoulder. 

“Oh, so you decided that you still want to hear me out?”

Azula presses her lips firmly together and holds out the flower. When TyLee doesn’t take it, she gives her hand another small thrust. TyLee’s face softens and she takes the flower. Azula smiles and TyLee sighs, “I guess that’s a good start.” 

Azula smiles again. She thinks that maybe she understands love more than she thought she did. Perhaps not very well, but enough for it to mean something. “Are you still mad?” She mouths. 

When TyLee’s look of confusion doesn’t subside Azula steps back and makes a fiery ‘R’ and then a ‘U’. And finally, ‘M-A-D’. 

TyLee exahles again. “A little, yes.”

Azula’s face falls. She looks around, unsure of what else to do.

“Can we keep walking, Azula?” She asks. “I think that, that might help.” 

“Okay.” Azula mouths. Her hand feels so empty. She eyes TyLee’s. She lets the woman take the lead. They are back to walking quietly and it leaves the princess feeling abysmal and pessimistic. Absently, she finds herself slowing her pace. TyLee notices before she does. They simply stand again, quietly. Azula with her fists clenched and teeth gritted, eyes misty. She knows what’s going to happen. She is going to be alone again. Alone and left behind. Just like the first time she relapsed. She is going to end up in the institution again and no one is going to visit her. 

They aren’t going to speak to her until she comes home with a hollow and distant look on her face. She is slipping. This time she notices it. Recognition has no worth when there is nothing to be done. 

She feels TyLee’s arms come around her and she chokes back her tears. “Do you want to go back inside?”

Azula nods. She would very much like that. And to go to bed. 

“We can also sit in the garden if you want.” TyLee offers. “I’d like to find more of these.” She holds up the flower. 

Azula takes a deep and shaky breath. And then another. TyLee waits for the princess’ moment to pass. She nods again and walks with TyLee to the bench by the rose bushes. She grips the edge of the bench until her knuckles go white. 

“You’re going to be fine, Azula.” 

She nods. But only because TyLee has given her a break. She wonders if she really should have been cleared at all. She isn’t stable. She isn’t sure that she’ll ever find stability again. She looks at TyLee. The woman gives a cheerful smile. 

She has found stability. 

She just isn’t sure that she can keep it. 


	5. A Golden Ribbon Falls

She is torn between feeling hollow and hopeful. She holds herself still and stiffly as her servants fix her hair up. It is the first time that she has bothered self-maintenance since losing her voice. They pin her hair out of her face, add some finishing touches, and send her on her way. She finds TyLee in the gathering room running through a series of stretches. Azula slips into the room and finds herself a seat. 

Gracefully, TyLee arches back into a handstand. She holds the pose for some time before lifting one arm off of the ground. She spreads her legs until her body forms a nearly perfect T before closing them again. She repeats this several times over before folding in on herself and dropping into an elegantly slow somersault. 

Azula sits nearly motionlessly, waiting for the woman to finish with her routine and notice her. She is mesmerizing really, fluid and with a perfect grace. She dips down and touches her toes, before parting her legs and lowering languidly into a split. Once she has lowered herself in full, she grips her ankle with one hand and extends the opposite arm above her head. She holds it there for some time with a serene smile on her face before lowering it in an elegant arc to where it meets her other hand. Her body follows along, she touches her forehead to her knee. 

Azula can’t imagine that the pose is any sort of comfortable, but TyLee makes it look enticingly relaxing.

In one quick and fluid motion she is on her feet once more, she turns to take a drink and meets Azula’s eyes. The princess gives a little wave. “What are you doing here?” 

Azula holds out a small fruit tart. She has found that she is a better baker than she had imagined, considering what an awful chef she is. Admittedly, at first it had been something of a disaster. But it had been salvaged after deducing that there was an art to it. That she only had to follow directions to perfection and add her own little touches. Her own little touches being that she had carefully carefully arranged the orange slices to make a firelily. 

TyLee smiles, the sort that is complimented by closed eyes and a sort of warmth. She takes the tart, “thank you, Azula.” 

Azula nods. 

“This is pretty good.”

She furrows her brows and mouths, “pretty good?” 

TyLee giggles, “it’s  _ really  _ good, Azula.”

Azula nods again and flashes a satisfied smile of her own.

“How long did it take to make?”

Azula holds up two fingers.

“Hours or minutes?”

“Hours.” Azula mouths. 

“You spent three hours making this for me?” 

She nods. She supposes that if she knew what she was doing it would have taken significantly less time. But she decides that it was time well spent when TyLee wraps her arms around her torso. She pats the woman’s back and rests her chin atop her head. And Azula knows what the problem is. The problem is Mai. TyLee is only resentful when Mai is there to rouse it out of her. Her grip on TyLee tightens some. 

“You alright?” 

Azula relaxes her grip and nods. “Fine.” She mouths. She rummages through a small bag and pulls out some parchment and scrawls,  _ I want to train with you. Like we used to. _ She lets a small flame dance on her palm. 

“Sure, Azula!” 

Azula’s stomach flutters. It isn’t unpleasant. It can only be relief. Relief that TyLee is enthusiastic and chipper again. That her mood hasn’t automatically darkened upon seeing her. Azula slides down from the chair, makes her way to the large exercise mat, and throws her first burst of fire. First a few punches and then a few kicks. A series of warm up stretches and stances. After the final one she stands still and inhales as deeply as she can. She exhales. Inhales. And exhales again. Her body relaxes and she tries for one of her more elaborate katas. 

She meets TyLee’s gaze. “Keep going.” 

Azula runs through several more katas until the heat radiates off of her body. 

“It’s always really fascinating to watch you bend.” TyLee comments. “You’re just so…” 

Azula tilts her head. 

“It’s almost hypnotizing. The blue fire and the stances…” 

Azula finds her parchment again,  _ spar with me?  _ She puts the parchment aside and drops into a stance. She throws a few mock punches. TyLee is quick and efficient, approaching her with a few light jabs. Azula ducks and dodges and returns with a fireless windmill kick. She catches TyLee by the ankles but the girl tumbles into a rather controlled somersault and makes it back to her feet. Azula’s lips quirk up. The acrobat isn’t holding back today. 

**.oOo.**

Azula sits in front of the mirror, staring at it but seeing nothing at all. She looks past her own reflection as she tries to work out the ends and holes in her plan. To a degree, she thinks that she might be stalling. That this is something that she shouldn’t try to plan, she should just let it happen naturally. But that is precisely how things get out of hand. She takes a deep breath and pulls her hair up. She runs a brush through her bangs one final time. She looks decent enough, she supposes. 

But decent isn’t good enough, she has to look truly sublime. She has to look more than sublime. She lets her hair down again, gathers it up, and...she studies her image in the glass and lets her locks tumble back down and over her shoulders.Perhaps she ought to leave it down. TyLee likes when her hair is loose. She takes a smaller handful of hair and fashions that into a small ponytail. 

She stands up and inspects her full image. She isn’t quite satisfied with what she sees, she isn’t sure what exactly it is that she doesn’t like, but there is something. It isn’t her hair this time and her gown is well enough; high collared and trimmed with gold. Tongues of embroidery flames rest over her left hip and fan upward and out towards her belly and chest. She runs her hands, perfectly manicured, over the fabric. A large ruby shines on her neck, maybe it is this. The ruby might be gaudy, too excessive. She removes the necklace and sets it on her dresser. The matching earrings are plenty. 

She isn’t quite fond of her makeup anymore either. It doesn’t suit her new outfit but she doesn’t feel like fussing with the servants and she doesn’t particularly have the time. So she slips into her shoes and grabs her parchment. She reads over what she has written before tucking it away and grabbing a small stuffed tiger-monkey with a fabric daisy sewn onto its ear and a golden ribbon tied around its neck. It is the very same one that TyLee has had her eye on for a while.

She will hand TyLee the toy and the letter and things will be okay. 

For once she will do things right. 

For once she will go to TyLee instead of letting approach her. 

The hallway is quiet and long enough to accentuate her nerves. It leaves her feeling twice as lonely as she does already. Twice as apprehensive. Her grip on the tiger-monkey tightens as though it is there to comfort her instead of to be given to TyLee.

She lingers outside the living room, telling herself that things will go smoothly. They had gone smoothly that morning, better than smoothly. That it will be just like sparring with TyLee, seamless and natural. She will hand TyLee her gift and her letter and they will be on their way to the capital for a fine night. 

She wills herself into the room, instinctually, she makes to call out to a simple greeting. Her heart pangs when she recalls that she can’t. She thinks of the letter in her hand, of how it isn’t nearly as potent and meaningful as it would be to speak what is written on that parchment. She takes a deep breath and steps fully into the room. She isn’t noticed. She is glad that she isn’t noticed. The tiger-monkey nearly drops from her hand. Her stomach does drop alongside her mood and her hope and her motivation to make things right--she couldn’t if she tried. 

It is probably better this way anyhow. She is broken. Broken in many ways. She can’t speak her affections. Even if she had her voice she isn’t sure that she’d be able. She doesn’t think that she could. Because that is another way in which she is broken.

She isn’t just broken she is destroyed and it isn’t fair to force TyLee to salvage the mess. It isn’t fair but it is still TyLee’s job. Someone has to do it and...she shakes that thought away. It is that line of thinking that makes her so unbearable to be around. 

It would hurt less if she backed away, she knows that she should tear her eyes away but she can’t seem to do it. 

And so she watches Mai cup TyLee’s cheek, caressing it, stroking it. Watches her murmur something soft, presumably enthralling and loving. Something more romantically eloquent and expressive, more poetic than she could ever come up with.

Shock turns to anger.

She watches TyLee’s face absolutely light up, her eyes gleam with delight. The sort that Azula hasn’t been able to induce in a very long time. 

Anger fades into sadness.

She watches Mai brush her nose against TyLee’s and then press her lips to hers. Her fingers still stroke TyLee’s cheek and her fingers curl in her hair. 

Sadness becomes numbness. 

Azula slinks back into the hallway, tucking the letter away and setting the tiger-monkey on the nearest coffee table as she does.


	6. A Silence That Shrieks

Zuko shudders as another scream tears it’s way down the hall. It isn’t truly there but he hears it all the same. Hears it as he had heard it on the day Sozin’s comet had come to pass. And he knows that he would be hearing it now...that he should be hearing it now. Instead, her face contorts with it, her face is red from it, and her chest constricts with it. But it is silent. No matter how far she opens her mouth, no matter how much force she puts into it, she shrieks in silence. But he knows that face. And he knows the sound. And he fills it in even now that he has retreated from her room. 

He rubs his hands over his face. 

TyLee clings to Mai with more force. 

Any time Azula does anything, TyLee clings to Mai with more force.

**.oOo.**

Azula lets her body drop, her knees hit the floor hard and she slumps forward. She grips her stomach, she feels sick. TyLee has...She is making herself sick. She squeezes her eyes shut. Her hair tumbles into her face, strands sticking to the wet trails on her cheeks. She can only give a series of forceful breaths. 

Her room is in shambles. 

She is in shambles. 

Her room is in shambles because she is in shambles. Shards of her mirror sparkle in jagged, biting puzzle pieces on the floor. The mirror’s golden frame still clings to some of the glass, what remains of its surface reflects her demise back at her. Amid the dusting of glass is a cloud of fallen feathers from the cushions and pillows that she has shredded. There is a burning scent permeating the air, her bedsheets and blankets lay blacked around the edges. There are other smaller trinkets strewn about the wreckage, a shattered vase, a few perfume bottles leaking onto and staining the carpet, the jewelry and makeup tubes she had swept off of the dresser…

Even still, Azula is the most broken thing in the room.

She clutches her head, digging her nails into her scalp. It doesn’t make sense. It just doesn’t. Tylee had never said that it was over. She never said that there wasn’t still a chance. She never said that she has given up on her. But she has. Everyone has. 

She gives another silent shriek and pounds her hands on the floor and then beats them against her head. This is how they will find her. 

She doesn’t understand how TyLee could do this to her. She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t...

But then she does. She does understand. TyLee has done this carefully. Cunningly. Masterfully to a respectable degree. She had strung her along, made her think that she could fix things, that she could learn to care for someone and that someone could care for her. 

Azula hadn’t thought TyLee had it in her, but Agni, is the girl clever. Sneaky. Her vengeance is so well crafted. 

For a moment it sobers her. For a moment she is still, contemplating and commending the other woman for her poisonous wit. 

She presses her face to the carpet and nuzzles against it. The carpet is warmer than anyone else has been to her. She strokes it with her fingers. 

She lays rigid and numb for the longest time, mind blank, eyes dull. And then the thoughts come creeping back in and she wishes furiously that they wouldn’t, she finds that she no longer likes thinking. That if she could she would never do it again. 

She wonders if TyLee had ever cared at all, if anything had ever been real or if it was all done just to appease her, to avoid whatever she thought that Azula would do to her. Azula wonders if she truly would have done something. She thinks that she might have. She knows that she would have. It doesn’t register that she is more furious than she has been in a while and she hasn’t thought once of hurting TyLee. 

She doesn’t not until images replay in her mind. Mai curling her fingers in TyLee’s hair. TyLee so passionately kissing her back. She doesn’t think that TyLee has ever kissed her like that. She folds in on herself, gripping her head all over again. She thinks of giving TyLee a real reason to fear and resent her. Thinks of slapping a palm full of fire against her cheek just the way she’d seen father ruin Zuko’s eye. Maybe Mai wouldn’t love her so much then; maybe she would have to be with Azula if no one else would take her, having an unsightly scar to mar her face. But she has her personality and that would still draw people in. Mai would dote over her. At the very least TyLee would know that she’d done wrong.

Azula is making herself queasy. Perhaps she ought to burn  _ herself  _ away, it isn’t as though she could repel people anymore than she already does. 

She tries to will herself to go passive again.

She can’t seem to do it and she finds herself hoping that Zuko had called for the guards and that they will come marching in with the sedatives. Those always slow her mind. She thinks that she might need a more potent dose tonight. 

She strokes at the carpet again, but this time her fingers find a few shards of glass, they prick her index and middle finger and wedge under the nails. More tears spring to her eyes, but maybe she deserves it. The sharp bite of the glass and the angry tingles that they leave. 

There is so much glass. 

It is all around her. 

She isn’t sure what is shattered more irreparably, the glass, her relationship, or she herself. She doesn’t know which pieces go where. She thinks that she shouldn’t have made her way out of the jungle. That it is better for her to live alone and in perfect silence. Alone and where silence is the only option even if her voice should return to her. 

Azula gets to her feet, her body feels so heavy she practically lets it hunch and sag as she takes a few wobbly steps. She is dizzy with stress and exhaustion. She nearly topples, only catching herself in the doorway. Agni, how is she going to make it back to the jungle if she can’t even make it out of her room. She slips back to the floor, hand sliding along the frame, leaving small smears of blood. 

She should clean that. 

She should try to stop the bleeding, even if the wound is more or less superficial. 

She leans her head against the wall and closes her eyes. She will leave as soon as she finds the strength and resolve. As soon as her legs stop shaking and the dizziness passes. It is going to be an agonizing wait. 

She feels arms come around her and the queasiness doubles. She won’t be able to escape if they lock her away. She brings fire to her palms and then lets it die once more; the arms are gentle and she doesn’t feel the prick of the needle. Zuko lifts her into his arms and holds her face against his chest. 

**.oOo.**

Zuko casts a glance over his shoulder, TyLee clings to Mai’s arm. Mai rakes her free hand through her hairline and holds it there. He hasn’t seen his sister in such a state in a long time. Her hair is in disarray, her eyes are somehow dim and furious all at once. Tear stains run with makeup down her cheeks. Her body tremors. It is a horrifying sight but more deeply disturbing is how she doesn’t make a sound. She can’t. Her agony is completely quiet. He thinks that it always has been even when she could cry out. But this time is different, he has an uneasy feeling that whatever had happened some nights ago, won’t be healing in full.

He feels her shaking against him. Her breathing is still so rough and erratic he wonders if it is smart to be so near her. He thinks that it would be better to have her sedated and transferred back to the institution. But her fists close around the fabric of his robes and she seems to lean more heavily into him and he finds that he can’t do it. 

He inhales deeply and rubs small circles on her back. 

He thinks that it could quite possibly be a dreadful feeling to dump her off back there, that he should probably look after her himself. He stares at the fists that clutch his shirt and he notices the blood. He grimaces and carefully takes that hand. “What happened?” He asks without thinking. He can’t imagine that she is in any state to find a creative way to reply. He pictures her spelling it out in blood and shudders again. In reality, she makes no move to reply at all. “Let's get this fixed up.”

She doesn’t protest or fight it when he rises with her. She has gone limp. He can’t say that he is surprised. This isn’t the first time that she has shouted and cried to the point of blacking out. It is probably a mercy for her. At least she won’t feel it when they pluck the shards, cleans, and dress the wound. 

“Is she going to be okay?” TyLee inquires softly. He hopes that she doesn’t blame herself, he can already sense her doing so. 

“I don’t know.” He replies. “I hope so.” Absently, he holds her closer, if only to feel her breath on his neck.


	7. The Constant

“Don’t be angry with her, Mai.”

“Don’t be angry with her?” Mai asks. “Don’t you see what this is? She’s playing with you, she’s trying to guilt you into coming back to her. This is another tactic.”

Tylee shakes her head. “That was different Mai. She can’t help that.” 

“She’s not even trying to help  _ that _ .”

“I think that she is...was. She hasn’t said anything to me.”

“Yeah, because she either hasn’t had the chance or is going for the cold shoulder method. Stop trying to defend her, she just hurts and manipulates you. She takes advantage of you.”

TyLee squeezes her eyes shut, they are already growing watery and her head is throbbing. With stress and sadness and...confusion. And she can’t take it anymore, can’t take any of it anymore. “So do you, Mai!” She shouts. “You think that I don’t know what I am to you!? I’m a rebound! I know that you guys think I’m…” she taps her head, “that I’m thoughtless and oblivious but I  _ do  _ know! I know that you wouldn’t have kissed me if you weren’t mad at Zuko.”

“TyLee…”

“No!” She yanks her hand free. “You’re just like her. You’re like all of them. You all just  _ use  _ me.” Her voice cracks and softens, “why do you all just use me?” She doesn’t think that she needs an answer. She knows that it is because she has a pretty face and a puppy-eyed innocence. “Just...just leave me alone.”

“Come on, TyLee. I really do love you.”

“Only until you make up with Zuko.”

“No.” Mai insists. “If he comes back apologizing, I’ll choose you.”

**.oOo.**

She has gone entirely numb. She likes it that way. It is preferable so she clings to that numbness with a steely grip. Though she doesn’t have to cling so furiously, she is simply too exhausted to feel anything but numb anyways.

Zuko rubs her back, up and down, up and down, up and down. It isn’t a comfort but it is a constant. A constant that keeps her from slipping off and away again. “Believe it or not, I want you to be okay.”

She doesn’t believe it in the slightest. 

“You…” He starts. “I don’t understand you, Azula. One minute you’re nice and caring and then it seems like you’re trying to tear TyLee and everyone apart.” She wishes that he would just stop talking. She can feel horrible about herself without his aid. “I can’t tell if you really care about her--about anyone--or if you’re just…” he pauses and shakes his head. 

And that is just it, she can’t tell if she truly cares either. She thinks that she might just be incapable of feeling care and love. She rolls over and bunches herself up. She is a vile person if she can be called a person at all. People love. People empathize. She doesn’t. She is not a person.

“I guess it wouldn’t bother you this much if you didn’t care.” Zuko finishes at last. Her heart quivers, she isn’t sure if it is the good sort or the sickly sort. “Do you feel bad?” He asks. “For hurting TyLee? I  _ need  _ to know.” 

She thinks for a moment that he might not like the answer until she remembers that she has willed herself hollow to drive out the voices--inner and outer--that tell her she is rotten through and through. They surge back in and she knows that the sound she would have uttered would have been gross and choking. Instead she just covers her face with her forearms and claws at her scalp. 

She hears Zuko take a sharp breath and he fights to untangle her fingers from her hair. She gives in and slackens her hold. 

“I don’t expect you to just,” he snaps his fingers, “get better…”

She doesn’t think that he expects her to get better at all. Not after this. Not when she had everything going for her. Not when she was on walking down the right track, well lit and perfectly free of obstacles, and still managed to leave that path for a more shrouded one. 

“It didn’t work like that for me either.” He continues. 

She nestles her head against the pillow.

“I don’t think that it’s healthy for you to stay here.”

And there it is.

He laughs. “I don’t think it’s good for me either. We had a fight and Mai cheated on me…” He trails off. “I know that you’re going to hate me more than you already do but this,” he points at the crown. “Isn’t all that great. Sounds fun to rule and have power but really everyone is just judging you and no matter what decision you make, it’s wrong. And so you fight with your girlfriend…” He gives another bitter laugh. “I’m probably not helping am I? I’m making this about me.”

She shrugs. She would much rather him talk about his own problems than throw hers back in her face. 

“That’s not what I’m trying to do. Maybe I should just say my plan instead of giving you the loaded backstory. Mai says that I have a problem with doing that.” He rubs his hand over his face. “I think I just did it again too.”

She flexes her fingers. She doesn’t particularly mean it, but she is losing interest in his ramblings. She can feel herself falling away, retracting and retracting into that special sort of unfeelingness that she can swear exists halfway between life and death.

Her eyes feel so heavy, she should like to close them and keep them closed for as long as she can.

She wonders if he notices that she is slipping away because she feels his hand on her back again. The sensation of the fabric of her shirt against her back dances somewhere between unpleasant and soothing. 

“I was thinking that we could go to Ember Island together. Like we used to when we were kids. I think that it would be nice to uh…” he rubs the back of his head. “Bond or something like that, I guess. It’s a stupid idea, isn’t it?” 

She inhales deeply and forces herself up. She nods, it is the very worst idea she has heard. So horrid that she had to sit up and acknowledge it’s awfulness. If Ember Island truly is a magical place that can smooth even the roughest edges, that has a way of helping one understand themselves, then it would do her well to stay as far from it as she possibly can. 

“Would you go with me?” He asks in spite of her nod. “I don’t want you to go through this alone, you already did that once.” 

Her stomach grows fluttery and her lower lip quivers. She resents him unremorsefully for driving the numbness out of her before she could truly bask in its comforts. “Let me help you again. It worked the last time.”

She looks away from his helping hand. It couldn’t have worked all that effectively if she is right back where she started at. If she hasn’t truly left that place at all. 

“This time we won’t just hide the mess under the bed. We’ll clean it.”

She wishes that he would have picked up on Uncle’s better metaphors. She presses her lips together and fixes her eyes straight ahead. 

“I think that, maybe, part of the problem is that you’re still in the same place. How can you change if you stay in the same place?”

She thinks that, that might just be it though; she doesn’t want to change. She doesn’t want to lose her essence completely. She realizes with another wave of discomfort, that nobody wants Azula, everyone wants an entirely new person. She doesn’t want to be a new person. She  _ can’t _ be a new person. She can’t even manage to tweak a single aspect of herself, not in any way that means anything at all.

She doesn’t think that she has a reason to put in the effort. And a fool she has been for hinging all of her efforts on one person. 

“Will you give it a try, I know that I could use some time away from here.” 

She points at his crown. She doesn’t know how, but for once he gets it. Maybe it is just a lucky guess, “I’ll let my advisor watch over the Fire Nation for a bit. He’s good at what he does and if there’s anything really pressing, he can just send a messenger hawk.” 

Azula crosses her arms. It is stupid and irresponsible among other things. Mostly, she just wants a solid excuse to say no. One that he can’t refuse. She looks back at her palms and flexes her fingers. Maybe it would be a good idea to go off to Ember Island and disappear. She’ll go. Go and then slip away when she gets the chance. 

“I can have the servants help you pack your things.” He tries. 

She gives him an affirmative nod. She hadn’t expected his face to brighten that much. He takes her hand. “This is going to be good for you. For both of us.” He smiles. “I promise.”


	8. Call Of Smoke

She steps onto the sand and crinkles her nose. She has only just gotten off of the boat, and already there is a heap of sand in her shoes. She shivers at the grating sensation. The island smells fresh of mango and pineapple and of exotic meats and fish over a cooking fire. Several of them, all across the beach. The ocean has its own array of scents and Azula is fond of none of them; the seaweed is too potent and putridly sweet and the salt is too poignant. 

“Need help with that?” 

Azula yanks her luggage away from him. She shakes her head, she doesn’t need nor want his help. 

“I’m just trying to help.” He mumbles. 

Azula frowns to herself before handing him her smallest suitcase. 

“Why don’t you let the servants carry them in for you?” 

It is more or less to prove to herself that she is more than capable of taking care of herself, even if her mind is betraying her again. She is going to have to get used to helping herself anyhow; she can’t keep a single friend or lover. Instead she mouths, ‘faster’. 

“If you’re sure.” 

She is very certain. She makes her way to the top of the staircase and drops her luggage in the foyer. She brought it this far, now she’ll leave the easier job to the servants. “We can go down to the beach.” Zuko offers, he looks her up and down. “I don’t think you’ll need your armor for this.”

Azula rummages through her luggage and finds herself a beach dress. 

“Why don’t you wear your swimsuit, in case we want to go swimming.”

She is certain that she doesn’t. Each time she fully immerses herself in water she finds herself overtaken by a sensation of failure and doom. She feels cold all over and she drowns in it. She doesn’t need another reminder of what she has lost and become. She wanders into the bathroom and dresses herself. The outfit is prettier and brighter than she feels within, it doesn’t suit her in the slightest. She lets her hair fall out of its top knot and over her shoulders. When she emerges from the bathroom Zuko is standing there in his own swimsuit. She lets him take the lead, it isn’t as though she has any particular stretch of the beach in mind. 

She isn’t sure that she has anything left in her mind at all. 

Anything save for a nagging itch that she has lost the most important thing that she had once had. She swallows, TyLee always did love the beach. She can practically see the girl bouncing over the sand and gesturing enthusiastically at all of the pretty shells and hibiscus flowers. 

Just as vividly, she can hear her gushing about what a beautiful day it is. The sun casts twinkling shimmers over the waves, unhindered by clouds. The sky is an endless blue and several crabs scuttle over the sand below.

Her breath catches in her throat. 

“Do you want me to get us some ice cream?”

Azula scans the ground for a long stick. Upon finding it she etches into the sand, “you can get one for yourself.” She smoothes out the sand once more. 

“Are you sure that you don’t want anything?” 

She shakes her head. She is not hungry, especially not for something so overwhelmingly sweet. 

“I really want you to enjoy this trip.” He tries. 

But, Agni, it’s awfully hard to enjoy a vacation when all she can think about is how terribly she yearns for an era that is well behind her and a world where her potential had borne fruit. A world where she still has a voice and it is powerful and beautiful and confident. A world where she is so above it that whether or not TyLee still loves her doesn’t matter even slightly. 

But in this world it means everything. 

In this world she is nothing. 

In this world she is unloved. 

In this world the distant volcano is calling her, begging her to come to its edge and jump into its core. It promises that it will sear her problems away and blacken her body and all of her bothers. Her pace slows until she comes to a standstill, eyes transfixed upon the volcano. Upon her new goal. The ocean has never helped her before, why would do so now? Anyways ocean water is too slow, too creeping, it would leave her with too much time to think and regret and dwell on her shame and all of the reasons that she had sought to fill her lungs with it in the first place. Fire has always been her salvation. Fire is mercy. For a moment the sun’s rays feel like the liberating heat of lava. 

“Azula.” Zuko shuffles back to her.

She finds that she can only look at the ground, stare at her feet and wiggle her toes. She feels Zuko’s hand carefully link with hers. “Come on.” He says softly. “Let's go find somewhere to sit down.” 

**.oOo.**

She can’t put it out of her mind.

It appears in her dreams.

It’s darkly scorched, rocky face looms over her, bathes her in shadow. And in a puff of smoke it speaks, “I can make it stop. I can make it all go away.”

It doesn’t specify what it can stop but it doesn’t need to. It spits a drop of lava onto her arm, she watches it trail down her arm, burning through it. It hurts so terribly but it serves its purpose; she isn’t thinking about TyLee anymore. She isn’t worried about dying alone, unloved, hated, and shamed. She is worried about the excruciating kisses that the volcano is laying on her body. Agni it hurts like mad as several infernos erupt from the charred craters forming on her skin. 

The volcano talks again, “it’s going to be okay now.” 

And as sparks fly and lava weeps from the holes in her arms, she knows that it is true. She can see bone in the wounds, but she doesn’t bleed. Monsters don’t bleed. She doesn’t bleed. 

She knows that she is dreaming when she speaks, “thank you.” 

When she wakes she doesn’t shiver or shudder. She doesn’t even have the urge to scream, though she still feels sensations of a blaze along her arms. She sits up and pulls her robe on over her nightgown. 

Her feet carry her outside before she can really think about what she is doing. She supposes that there is a perk to being so silent, Zuko doesn’t notice when she slips out. Her sight is set on the volcano and she finds herself absently walking in its direction. She knows that this is the right decision. 

She tries to think of someone who might care for her, who might weep in her absence. Father no longer cares for her, she wonders if he ever had. Her mother never did. Certainly Uncle would be relieved to see her gone. Gone so that she can’t hurt Zuzu anymore. It is likely that Mai will revel in her absence. TyLee will cry but it will be shallow, an act, just like her bubbly smiles and her loving murmurs. She can’t imagine that Zuko will miss her all too much. 

She is making the right decision, she tells herself while she stands at the shoreline, breeze fluttering through her hair. 

She wonders if she should write a note. She isn’t sure that she needs to, the why’s are rather clear. The how is of no concern, likely the how would be rather distressing.She should, for once, spare them the morbidity. Even still, she thinks that it would be appropriate, if not a polite formality to leave one parting message. She is better at writing out how she feels than she has ever been at speaking them. 

Decidedly, it is better if she doesn’t. Aside from it being a waste of time, she has no right to ask for pity and compassion in death when she hadn’t done anything to deserve it in life. No, she…

“Hi!” 

Azula jerks and the woman laughs before muttering an apology. Azula turns around and faces a rather tall woman with her hair fashioned into both a top knot and a low ponytail. A horrible styling choice, really. 

“It's a nice night, isn’t it?”

It is, truly so. It is another clear skied, star glimmered night with a balmy breeze that is just perfect. It is a fine night indeed, all of the worst ones are.

Azula shrugs.

The girl seems to tilt her head before giving a laugh.

Azula’s brows crease. 

“I recognize you!” She declares.

Azula tilts her head and furrows her brows. It isn’t that she is surprised that she doesn’t recognize the woman; she has seen so many faces both real and imagined. 

“You’re that weirdo from the party.” 

Azula sighs. As far as she is concerned, she was just another face in the crowd. Another socially deprived disaster; she can’t imagine that they haven’t come across someone of her variety before or after...

“You put a drink on my head.”

Azula cringes. Of all the people she could encounter. 

“You remember doing that, right?”

She certainly likes to pretend that she doesn’t. She only stares at the girl. 

“You can answer me, you know?” 

Azula shakes her head.

“What do you mean, no?”

Azula searches for another stick and etches a simple, “can’t talk.” 

It is now the woman who tilts her head in confusion. Only for a moment before asking, “what happened?” 

She scrawls, “long story.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

Azula shakes her head. 

She coughs, “right, uh, do you want to write about it?”

She shakes her head again. 

“Can I sit down?”

Azula casts a longing glance at the volcano. She supposes that the woman can sit wherever she pleases, it doesn’t mean that she has to stick around. And even if she does, she can’t foresee the volcano going anywhere anytime soon. She gestures to the spot next to her. 


	9. A Name To Her Misfortune

Azula lets the waves lap at her ankles. The more she hears it, the less she understands how anyone can find the relentless crashing of waves to be a soothing sound. It is like thunder in her ears, a harsh and persistent sound...

“So what brings you back to Ember Island?”

Decidedly, she will keep things plain and simple. She drags her stick through the sand and spells out, “brother.” 

“You’re visiting your brother or he wanted to come here?”

She holds up two fingers. It takes the woman a moment to catch on. When she does she nods, “oh, two fingers means the second guess.”

Azula returns the nod.

“Do you want to be here?”

She doesn’t want to be anywhere at all. Nowhere, she supposes, but on the rim of the volcano with the heat rippling enticingly over her face. She takes a handful of sand and watches the grains slip through her fingers.

“My friend is hosting a party…”

She drags her stick through the sand. ‘Chan?’ 

“Yes.” 

Azula frowns and shakes her head. She swallows, remembering TyLee’s bubbly smile, her cheery voice.  _ Just smile and laugh at everything he says, even if it’s not funny. _ She wonders if that is what TyLee has been doing with her all along. How foolhardy of her not to have noticed, not to have even considered…

“Right, the last time didn’t go so well because you have some...bizzare social habits.”

The woman might as well be forthright and call her a social deviant, a pariah. There are stronger, more accurate terms for what she is. 

“Are you okay?” The woman tilts her head. “You seem...off.”

Another understatement, but she guesses that it is true enough. She is off, she has always been off, probably since birth. Everyone has sensed it on her. Everyone had noticed. Everyone save for she, herself. At least until it became more stark, more undeniable. When off became off even for her. And she supposes that she is a new kind of off now; a less uncanny, more resigned sort of off. The same off that comes with snuffing out a candle for the night. Except no one is around to light the wick once more and she hasn’t any matches of her own. ‘I’m fine.’ She scribbles. 

The woman frowns. “I don’t believe you.” 

Azula makes no move for the longest time. Only when the woman goes to speak again does she begin her scrawl, ‘what makes you say so?’

“No one sits alone on a beach this late at night, or is it early in the morning, if they are fine. Well, I guess that some people do. But most of them don’t look like they’re a few seconds from swimming out into the open ocean and never returning.” 

‘I don’t look like that.’

She quirks a brow, “well you certainly don’t  _ not  _ look like that.” She folds her arms. “I can tell you know. I just can. It’s like…” she taps her chin. “Sometimes I think that I can sense people’s energy. What do they call that…?”

Azula tenses and, with a much heavier hand, writes, ‘auras’. The stick snaps and narrowly misses the woman next to her. She hears the half make a splash. 

“Yeah, auras. I guess, I don’t know if I believe in that stuff though.” 

Azula releases her breath, but the sting is still potently there. She stares at her feet, at the waves as they drag sand over them.

“I’m going out on a limb here. Your brother wanted to come here for you, not himself, didn’t he?”

Azula shakes her head. She chucks the other, uselessly small remainder of the stick into the water. Sand embeds itself under her nail as she answers, ‘both.’

“Both of you? Both of you need this vacation?”

She confirms and faces the water again. Once again she is bombarded by the sound of waves against sand. She isn’t sure how much time passes but it is enough time for a line of gold to crack at the very bottom of the horizon. More than enough time for the girl to grow bored and leave her. 

She doesn’t. 

For some reason she sits in silence. 

And then she lays in silence with her hands behind her head and her eyes closed. 

Azula takes this as her chance. She rises and makes a quick and light footed stride across the beach. She reaches the treeline before she hears footsteps behind her. “Where are we going?” 

Azula folds her arms over her chest; apparently she is going nowhere at all. Though she doesn't see why she should have any qualms or inhibitions about pitching herself into a volcano in front of the woman. She owes her nothing. And if she wants to make a nuisance of herself then she can have the sight forever burned into her simple head.

In way of an answer, she simply pushes forward into the jungle. 

“We’re going for a hike?” The woman asks. “We haven’t got any gear.”

She looks around for a branch, a stick of bamboo, anything that could help her tell the woman to fuck off. She has a feeling that the woman wouldn’t go even if she could find the means to demand it of her. Instead she opts for a simple, fiery, ‘y?’

“Why what?”

She shapes an ‘r’ and a ‘u’. She takes a deep breath before finishing, ‘following me.’ The woman makes her spell it out several more times before answering with a plain and infuriating shrug. 

‘Y?’ She demands again, this time with a hotter blaze. 

“I guess...I don’t know.” The woman mutters. “My sister used to get like this. She would sit alone on the beach for hours, at all hours. And then one day, she just didn’t come home.” She kicks at the ground. “You’re not going to go home, are you?”

Azula stares at the ground for the longest time before she spells on a very simple, ‘I will.’ 

“Then what are you coming out here for?”

Azula rubs her hands over her face. This woman is much too persistent. She obliterates the nearest tree and picks up a chunk of it. She splays her lies into the dirt, she thinks there might be something poetic about doing so. ‘I’m going to find the spirit that took my voice.’

The woman knits her brows. “It’s here? In this jungle?” 

Azula nods. 

“And you’re just going to do that without any gear? No food, no water?” 

Azula sharply inhales. 

“Wow, you’re a horrible planner!” She declares. “You should really think ahead before going on some crazy jungle quest.” 

‘It is my quest. I’ll decide what I do.’ She underlines ‘my’. 

“I can help, though.” The woman insists. “I know this jungle like it’s my own backyard. I’m a tour guide. It’s my job to take everyone…”

‘Along designated, marked trails.’

Now the woman’s face is red. Perhaps if she keeps making subtle jabs, the woman will leave on her own. 

“I’ve done some exploring on my own. A lot of it. I found these ruins and I know that the spirits enjoy lingering around them.”

The twinkle in her eyes tells Azula that the woman thinks that she has achieved a small victory. ‘I don’t need help.’

‘Fine.’ Azula concedes. Decidedly, it is no longer her fault if the woman sees something that will leave her scarred. 

“Let’s go back and get some equipment. I actually have a pack prepared already from my last hike. But we can get you some parchment and ink so that you don’t have to write in the dirt.”

Azula sighs. She doesn’t have the energy to ask what makes the woman think that she wants to have any conversation at all on this loathsome journey. But she sees no sense in arguing. The sooner she plays along the quicker she can make her way to the volcano. She follows the woman out from under the shady canopy and its cacophony of bird calls. She is hit by the first rays of morning when she steps back onto the beach. They sear her eyes and she lifts her hand to shield them. 

“This is going to be fun, you’ll see.” She says firmly. “I know that it’s probably been difficult without your voice, but this will be exciting. I’ve been meaning to take a hike, a  _ real  _ hike, for a long time now. I just haven’t had the chance.”

And perhaps this woman isn’t what she seems at all. Maybe she isn’t some good natured helping hand. Azula  _ hopes  _ that she isn’t. More likely she is seeking adventure but doesn’t have the courage to go alone. She supposes that vengeance write itself when she abandons her at the volcano’s edge. 

“Since we will be traveling together for a while I should tell you, my name is Seicho”

At least now she has a name to her misfortune. 


	10. Broken Compasses

She doesn’t know what to do now. She hasn’t a single inkling, not even the smallest of inklings. Twice now she has thrown away something perfectly good to pursue and follow Azula about. Twice now it has led her to nothing good at all. The circus has long since went under in her absence and the Kyoshi Warriors have had their share and more of her skipping out on them to prance alongside Azula. She can’t bring herself to try to tiptoe back to them. She has more respect than that, mostly for them than for herself. 

And it comes to her; that she has never truly been her own person at all. Every single thing has been guided by someone else or an entire group of someones. If not Azula’s will then she was acting upon Mai’s. And if not Mai’s, the Kyoshi Warriors. Albeit, the Kyoshi ladies had more noble intentions. Albeit, they asked her what she wanted to do every now and again. But she only wanted to do what they wanted.

Every. Little. Thing. Every goal and opinion. Every direction. None of it was her own will. Even the circus. By Agni it hurts but she knows that it’s true. She wouldn’t have thought of the circus, wouldn’t have chosen it at all if not for well placed hints from TyWoo.

The fact of it is that she deserves this. She let Azula and Mai both string her along. She is too innocent. Too trusting. And oh how they feed upon that. All of them, every one of them. She hates them for it. And she hates them for making her hate them. 

This isn’t her. 

_ “What happened to chipper, bubbly TyLee?” _ How often had Suki asked that? How often had she tried to throw her a lifeline? She might just be the only one. Mai’s helping hand came with a razored palm. 

Azula is bad, certainly. But Mai? Somehow Mai is worse. She had seen all along what was going on. How Azula toyed with her, frightened her...loved her. 

Yet, aside from a few ‘move on’s’ she hadn’t lifted a finger to intervene. TyLee can’t help the growing suspicion, the nagging notion that Mai wanted her to fall apart; wanted Azula to sap every bit of fight out other so that she would run along to her for comfort. Because who else could stand up to Azula? Who else could protect her? Certainly TyLee couldn’t do it herself. So she made it. She made the leap.

From one manipulator to another. 

At least Azula is more forthright about her rottenness.

She takes one last glance back at the palace. At the Capital skyline. 

She needs to find her own way.

**.oOo.**

She dreams again of volcanoes, of lava and magma and charred skin. But this time it hurts so dreadfully. This time she is afraid. It still promises to help her, to take all of the pain away so long as she can withstand the tortures it will inflict upon her. It speaks in her father’s tongue. And when she turns away from the bubbling glow it changes direction; sleek and cool and with a saccharine sweet charm, it promises that it won’t hurt her. That this is what she wants and that it will save her. It promises her that everything will be okay so long as she takes the leap. It coaxes her in a voice that she hasn’t heard in so long. 

It coaxes her in a voice that she had ripped from her throat. 

And by Agni if she isn’t convinced. 

Her legs carry her out of the beach house. She thinks only briefly to let Zuko know that she is leaving. To wake him up with a sugary lie, written with lovely penmanship, about how restlessly excited she is to be going on an adventure with a new friend. With someone she clicked with right away. 

It is better if she doesn’t. She doesn’t want him telling her even prettier lies about how she will be okay, about how she’s on the right path.

She has been on the right path several times now and each time she has so readily walked right off of it and into uncharted territory. Unfriendly territory. 

She thinks that a swift dead end, is better than whatever trail she walks along now. 

She stands on the beach and inhales. It is a lovely night as it often is. She is growing tired of pleasant pineapple breezes and ambient bird calls and wave crashes. For once she just wants a storm. A bright and jagged flash of lightning before the sky lights and rains damnation upon her. She wants something in the universe to hurt and weep as furiously as she. 

The volcano, her salvation looms darkly against a starry backdrop.

She inhales again and wraps her arms around herself with a knowingness that no one else will. 

It is just one more thing she is wrong about. 

She wishes that she were wrong about it.

“Do you know what personal space is?”

Seicho blinks at the message that the princess has hastily written in the sand. 

“Sorry.” She laughs. “I’m just happy to see you here!” 

“Why?” She mouths.

Seicho grins. “Because I think we’re the perfect traveling partners. We’re both too thrilled to sleep.” 

Azula rolls her eyes and mouths, “sure.” 

“I’ve already got our packs together and I found a lot of parchment!”

She doesn’t plan on conversing enough to fill even one sheet. Though she is already off to a bad start, she takes the ink and asks, “don’t you have to let someone know that you’re leaving?”

“Already did!” She declares. “Now let's go steal your voice back.”

But she already hears her voice and it calls from the core of the volcano. 

She knows her path and this time she won’t let anyone point her to a different one, no matter how sun dappled it seems.


	11. Depressive White Noise

The world is so cold. So refreshingly and sublimely cold. The promise of burning away her problems seemed so obvious but now she sees. She sees that the answer lies in the frigid nip of a tundra so vast that it could put her thoughts to a frozen stand still. 

She stuffs her hands into her pockets. She isn’t sure what she is going to do here, what this place could possibly offer her. 

But it sure beats the alternative. 

It sure beats stagnation. 

And it sure feels like taking control. 

The lights flapping overhead like sheets in a breeze are better guides than any other that she has had. They don’t point her in any direction and it is daunting. But as they swoop gracefully down and rush by like a curtain, TyLee feels as though she is bound to find her way.

**.oOo.**

It is so swelteringly hot that even Azula is uncomfortable. With luck she will overheat and keel over before she reaches the volcano. Surely it will save her the trouble. As of now trouble is all that she has. And frankly trouble shares a name with misfortune. Trouble stands with her hands on her hips and a bold and perky smile on her face. 

“The ruins are this way!”

‘Are you sure that you didn’t come across them that way?’ She writes and sets the parchment aside to point towards the volcano. 

“I’m certain.” 

Azula glances at the volcano.

Seicho laughs. “If you want to go to the volcano you can just s--write so. We can go get your voice back and then go sightseeing.” 

‘Fine.’ She lowers the parchment.

“Alright, follow me.” She takes pause to drink from her waterskin before moving a thick swath of low hanging leaves.

With no urge to make conversation and even less desire to listen to Seicho’s incessant chatter, Azula is left with the droning hum of mosquito-fly and cicada and the occasional thwomp of a branch snapping back into place. It is such a steady constant. A boring, steady constant. Step after step becomes absently second-nature reduced to nothing more than an involuntary motion that she pays no mind to at all. She can feel herself lapsing, spirling into herself.

Eventually her footfalls and the ever-present droning of insects fade into the background.

Just what the hell is she doing out here? Letting this girl lead her about and distract her from her goals? Why had she come to Ember Island at all when really she is entirely certain of what she wants. Of how this should end.

She sees TyLee’s face in her mind. She doesn’t smile, she isn’t angry. She isn’t even sad. She is horrified. Horrified and all Azula has to do is raise her voice slightly or drop it to a lower pitch. The girl weeps openly, she holds a hand to her cheek. “Why?” The question echos in her mind. And she doesn’t have an answer, not a good one. 

It was the first time she’d hit TyLee and it was the last. 

_ “Why?”  _

She doesn’t quite remember. She doesn’t remember much about that day. Other than that it was her first full relapse. 

Very faintly and in a fuzz she remembers several bodies colliding with hers. Remembers her elbows hitting the floor and a needle biting her skin. She recalls screaming, “traitor!” There was something else too and then ‘traitor’ again. As far as she was concerned it had been TyLee. TyLee had chiblocked her. It was only well after being bound up nice and tight that it occurred to her that TyLee had been several feet away when her body went numb. 

_ “Why?” _ It comes on the rustling waves of the palm fronds.

“Water?” Seicho offers. 

Azula shakes her head. 

“Are you doing okay?”

She nods. 

“Well you haven’t been writing much…” She trails off. “I guess it’s kind of a pain to try to write out a whole conversation and walk at the same time.”

Azula shrugs. She thinks that she would rather be alone in her mind anyhow. 

“Do you want to stop and rest for a moment?”

Azula shakes her head again. She feels perfectly content walking until she wears her shoes to threads and her feet bloody if it means getting to the ruins faster. 

“You aren’t thirsty? Your feet aren’t sore?” 

Azula holds up the parchment, ‘I’m fine.’

“Well I’d like a rest, if you don’t mind. I was hoping that we could talk a bit.”

‘About what?’

Seicho shrugs. “I don’t know, small talk I guess?”

Azula cringes, suddenly she is quite thirsty. She busies herself with taking her drink but Seicho is patient. “What do you like to do?” She asks. “I like going on these hikes and for swims. What are your hobbies?” 

She raises her hand and ignites a small flame, willing it orange.

“Oh, you like firebending!” She grins. “I enjoy firebending, myself. Maybe we can spar together some time.” 

If she has her way some time will not come to pass. ‘Sure.’

“Uh...cool.” 

Azula watches her twiddle her fingers and shift her weight from one foot to the other. “What’s your brother like? It must be nice to have a brother who takes you to Ember Island.”

‘He’s…’ She brings her brush to a halt. ‘He’s alright, I suppose.’

“Oh.” She nods. “I think I get it. You guys don’t get along do you? And that’s why you’re here? To try to fix things with him?”

  
If she could, Azula would fix her with the most bitter laugh she could muster. To think that there would come a time when Zuzu wasn’t the problem. She supposes that he might just be the one good thing that she has left, even if he’d been the one to take all of the others. 

But she’ll let Seicho draw her own conclusions; a lie that she doesn’t have to put any effort into. Just silence. Silence and affirmative nodding.

“I guess I wouldn’t be all that happy if my sister and I didn’t get along.” She purses her lips. “Or maybe it hurt so much to lose her because we got along so well.” 

‘In other words, I should just resent him for the rest of my days?’

“No! You should try to patch things up. I think it hurts either way around. But it’s better if you have good memories. If you lose him on a bad note, you don’t stop thinking about that. That’s what my mom said.”

She wonders if Zuko will see their current relationship standing as ending on a high note. Speaking relatively she’d say that he won’t have much to regret. At the very least he can take comfort in knowing that he did give it a good try. 

That should be enough.

And it it isn’t, not quite, he can fall back on the Avatar and his friends…

“You should fix things with your brother. I don’t think that any relationship can be broken beyond repair.”

‘Then you haven’t seen how any of mine have unfolded.’

**.oOo.**

The woman hasn’t scrawled a single thing on that parchment since. Seicho sees it sticking slightly out of her pack; ‘mine have unfolded’. The scrawl glares elegantly and forlornly at her. She hasn’t even been able to get the woman to write so much as her name down. Not even a yes or a no. 

She thinks that the woman doesn’t want to give her name.

That she doesn’t want to get to know her. 

That she doesn’t plan on speaking with her again after this venture. Likely, Seicho had just pestered her into doing something she had no interest at all. Likely she has tricked herself into thinking that she could make the woman smile if she tried hard enough. 

“The tent is big enough for both of us. Well, it will be when I’m done putting it together.” She holds up a bamboo pole and inspects it. “Have you ever set up camp before?”

The woman shakes her head. 

“Can you build a campfire?”

The woman stands and gatherers a few sticks. She half expects her to dash off into the jungle and...who knows? But she returns with an armful of wood some minutes later. She arranges it into a neat star shape and sets it ablaze. 

“Thanks.” 

The woman sits before the fire and stares into it. Stares as though it has something important to show her or crackle to her. Seicho finishes crafting the tent and drops next to her. “Your fire is really warm.”

She shrugs. 

“Sorry.” She mumbles. “I just thought that this could be fun. You looked like you could use some company and help to take down any feral spirits. I thought that it would help to have a friend. I guess I’m just bothering you though.”

The woman rests her head on her knees. 

“We can go back if you want. Or I can…” 

The woman picks out a branch and, in the dirt, writes, ‘no point.’

“No point in what.” 

‘U going back.’

Seicho nods and gives a half smile, “I’ll try not to bother you with so many questions. I guess that you just like it quiet.” 

The woman seems to think for a moment before writing a very plain, ‘ok.’ 

Seicho rustles through her pack for some fruits and fireflakes. They sit until the fire dies out. The woman makes her way to the tent first. Seicho lets her get comfortable before coming to join her. At least, she supposes, the woman hasn’t completely written her off. 

She dares to think that maybe, just maybe, the woman does want companionship even if she can’t bring herself to ask for or accept it. 


	12. The Curtain Folds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not be getting a new job soon (depending on how the interview goes). If I do get the job updates might come slower on all of the fics. Though I'm going to try my best to stay consistent.

Seal hunting, penguin sledding, building snowbenders--it is all such a delight! 

The cold is still harsh on her cheeks and nippy on her nose but it is a small price to pay for the frigidly enchanting, mystifying world around her. For the small fluttery flakes that sparkle on her lashes and on the fur of her parka. 

And the lights! The lights in the sky that lick at the stars--more of them than she has ever seen!--she feels like she is home. Home and yet the Tribes are nothing at all like the Fire Nation by any means. And maybe that is why she is able to feel as well as she does. That same frosty breeze that bites at her face, is the breeze that freezes all of her stresses and woes to a stand still.

Everything is so fresh and so new and like nothing she has ever seen before. And in the open expanse of the rolling, glittering tundra is free! Truly free. And free to be anything she wants. 

Today, she wants to be a snowflake on the breeze or a fold in those glowing sky curtains. Perhaps she can’t be either in the literal sense, but she can certainly feel like one. All she has to do is run. Run, light and weightless until her exhilaration reaches a peak. And she does, she takes off into the fastest run, only caring for the world around her insofar as to not get lost. 

But on a night like this she can’t imagine that she would get lost. She can’t imagine that anything bad could happen because she is so, so far from the places where bad things happen. 

Away from the people who cause those things. 

She might not be lost in the tundra but she is lost in life. And lost in life she may be but she thinks that it might be fun to just wander for a while. Wander with no direction and no goal at all. At first she thought to seek out a daring romance in the cold, cuddling up by a fire and swathed in heavy blankets. Yet the longer she flounces about in the snow, the less compelling that fantasy becomes. 

No, she needs a real escapade. One that isn’t bogged down by romance and obligation. She reaches the village and turns to look back. Her footprints in the snow, a map of excitement and hope. She flights herself down and flails her arms and legs, just as she’d seen a few of the village children do. 

She laughs like them too. 

Carefree and optimistic. 

She laughs like herself. 

And she thinks that she knows where she wants to go from here. 

**.oOo.**

For a while, a very mercifully long while, Seicho has kept to her word. She hasn’t asked a single question. Hasn’t uttered a single word. They trek in silence, not that she has any other choice, she ruefully reminds herself. And then she reminds herself that she won’t have to worry about that soon anyhow. 

Such have been the nature of her thoughts for the past three days. And the opportunity has presented itself more than once; a particularly high ledge, a poisonous berry or flower, a lethally venomous snake within arms reach…

But they are not for her. 

Not befitting of her. Not grand enough. She doesn’t want to die spasming in the mud in some Agni forsaken jungle and cliffs and ledges aren’t sure enough. Not like the volcano. 

The hike isn’t doing her mood any favors, she is dirty and smells of mud and musk. She is uncomfortably hot and sweat-slicked. Every time she goes to wipe some grime from her face she smears more upon it. She is dirty and loathsome as she feels within. And now, she doesn’t even have Seicho’s incessant chatter to distract her from it. 

If TyLee could see her now, the woman would probably wonder what she had ever seen in the her. She isn’t sure what anyone had seen in her. Can’t see why Zuko has bothered to bring her to Ember Island at all, it would serve him much better to personally accompany her to the volcano and push her over the edge. Perhaps she should go back and pose the offer…

“We’re about a day or two away.” 

Azula nods.  _ Good _ .

“Can I ask you something?” She is almost relieved to hear Seicho speak again. So much so that she doesn’t point out that she has already asked her something. Her relief, like much else she enjoys, is cut brief. She supposes that she should have seen it coming, Seicho was bound to inquire eventually. “Are you going to tell me how you lost your voice?”

Azula pauses to find her parchment. ‘Why would I?’

Seicho shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess…” She frowns. “Sorry, that was a personal question, I should have started with something easier.” 

But that’s just it; there is a part of her that is itching to tell her. Perhaps to get it off of her chest. More likely, to show Seicho the kind of person she is. ‘I’ll tell you tonight, after we make camp.’

Seicho grins. “Great! I was also wondering if you’d like to stop at that stream for a bath. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting all sticky and gross.”

In way of a response she makes a brisk break for the river. She thinks that she hears Seicho chuckle and wonders if the woman had made the suggestion more for her than for herself. It doesn’t matter, the only thing that matters is washing the filth from her skin, nevermind the details. So gross does she feel that she doesn’t hesitate to strip her clothes away. If the peasant has any problem with it, she can turn the other way. 

“I have some soap, if you need it.”

Azula nods vigorously and holds her hand out. 

With a smile, Seicho hands her the bar and leaves her to her undignified backwater bath. She emerges from it smelling less like sweat and mud and more like seaweed. But Agni is it better than being covered head to toe in grime. 

“I washed our clothes.” Seicho mentions. “They aren’t dry yet so…”

Azula shrugs, her inhibitions and social graces are well and gone. They’d vacated on her last visit to the institution, whether she was aware or not. She holds her arm out, it is a bumpy mural of bugbites and scratches and a descent bruise from when Seicho had run into her with an armful of firewood. 

“Those aren’t painful, are they?” 

‘No’.

“You should really take better care of them, so that they don’t get infected.” She holds up some slave and bandages. “Can I?” 

Azula inhales and holds her arm out. Seicho is surprisingly careful. She purses her lips in concentration as she dabs each cut and scrape with with salve. It is overdoing it, but Azula allows her to wrap her entire arm with bandages. She lightly pats Azula’s hand, “there that should do it. We can change the bandages tomorrow.”

‘Sure.’ 

“Are you feeling better now that you’re all clean?”

‘I wouldn’t say all.’ 

“Are you feeling better now that you’re cleaner than before?”

She feels no different, really.

**.oOo.**

The woman keeps her distance, gazing intensely into the campfire, likely because she still doesn’t want to share her story and Seicho can’t bring herself to ask a second time. Evidently she is surprised that the woman hasn’t tried to char her to a crisp yet. 

“You hungry?” She asks instead. 

Her eyes don’t leave the fire, she isn’t even sure that the woman has heard her. 

“I was able to catch some fish, I could cook those.” 

The fire gives a loud snap. 

“Alright. I’ll cook both fish and if you want one you can have one. But you should eat something.”

The woman averts her gaze at last and feels around for her brush and parchment. Seicho watches the brush bob back and forth for longer than she had expected. The fish are mostly cooked by the time she finishes. She holds out the parchment and grabs the fish. She finishes cooking them as Seicho reads through her note. 

“You…” Seicho beings “You wanted the spirit to take your voice?” 

The woman takes the first fish from the fire and offers it to her. She nods and takes her own fish. 

“But you want it back now?” 

The woman nods again. 

“Well that was one wild impulse decision.” 

She gestures for the parchment. Seicho hands it back and the woman scrawls something else. She holds up the parchment. ‘There’s something wrong with me.’ Seicho takes her hand. “You’re hurt.” 

The woman shakes her head. ‘It’s more than that…’ 

“Then what is it?” 

The woman tosses the parchment into the fire. 

“Alright, time for a subject change. What’s your name anyways?” 

She doesn’t pull out another piece of parchment. 

But at least she had made some progress. At least she had opened up even a little. “Can we talk about the spirit? That creature sounded terrifying. Terrifying and lovely all at once.” The woman simply nods in agreement. She tries to picture it in her head; thin ribbons of iridescence, curling endlessly and evershifting. Tries to hear it in her head, a voice that is a chorus, that is divine and horrifying in synchrony. “I don’t think that you needed to do that. Whatever you said that made you think that you had too…”

**.oOo.**

If only it were just one thing, one angry sentence. That could be brushed off, taken as a heat of the moment lashing. Maybe in a sense that’s what it was. But after a certain point, rage driven insults are spoken often enough to become a rather defining trait. An ingrained and deeply innate flaw of character. And to call it a flaw so drastically understands what it is. It is more like a glaring smear on her personality. 

It is her personality. 

“I don’t think that you’re a bad person.”

But she will inevitably, should she be given the chance. Frankly she is surprised that the woman hasn’t found a reason to think so. At the very least, she must think her rude and unpleasant. Bad company that she is stuck with.

Seicho probably regrets the trip as much as she does. 

She looks at her arm, at how tenderly it had been tended to. Her stomach flutters, a cross between sadness and discomfort. Perhaps a little fear. She looks up from the fire to see the woman smiling softly at her. “I can tell you a story.” She offers. “It’s a folktale but I haven’t told a campfire story in a while. Maybe you’re more of the listening sort. I’m definitely a talker. I think that you can tell though because I go on and on and...do you want to hear the story?”

Azula’s tummy flutters again and she nods. She isn’t sure why but she nods. She can’t remember the last time anyone has told her a story just to tell one. She isn’t sure that anyone ever has. Seicho’s face lights up nearly brighter than the fire. “Okay so there’s a boy who finds a polished stone on the beach, mom always called it the hope stone. The boy was terribly said, he lost his family to a hurricane. It destroyed his home and his ship too. He was so hurt and so angry that it came out in everything he did. Eventually his friends couldn’t stand to be around him anymore because he was bringing them down. And when his friends went away he had nothing left at all. So he went down to the beach in the middle of the night.”

Azula stares at her palms, shifts in her spot.

“He was so furious. He just started picking up rocks and throwing them. And then he found a really smooth and shiny rock. It looked almost like a mirror so when he pointed it towards the sky it was like seeing a galaxy on the stone. And in that galaxy, it showed him things. It showed him how to mend his friendships and how to be happy again. It showed him is parents and they smiled up at him. He knew that they wanted him to be happy…”

She doesn’t mean to but she finds herself nodding off. She doesn’t think that Seicho has noticed because the girl is still talking. She must have nodded off in full because she wakes up in the tent, Seicho snoring on the other side of it. 

She swallows hard, she can’t place exactly what they are born from, but there are tears in her eyes. She wipes them away. 

“You’re awake again?” Seicho mumbles. “You should go back to sleep.” Azula isn’t sure that the woman is fully awake. She is certain that she isn’t when she clumsily swats at her muttering, “lay down, it’s night time, that means lay down and eye shut time.” And yet she finds the coordination to tuck her in when she finally does lay back down. 

She hasn’t been tucked in, in ages either. Not by someone other than herself. And her mind wanders. Wanders to a new place. It is just an itch. A small thing in the back of her mind. A small thing that magnifies itself in her dreams.

Tonight she doesn’t dream of volcanoes and blackening skin. She dreams of a galaxy, of a reaching hand.


	13. The Hope Stone

_ The hand comes down from the stars, it brushes over her cheeks. It is soft and it is loving. Warm and kind. She brings her own hand up to it and strokes the back of it. The stars overhead shift and swirl and glimmer and wink.  _

_ She thinks that they might be singing or humming. It is a sweet sound. A lulling sound. Like the lullabies she had been deprived of.  _

_ It is strange, she thinks, to sleep when you’re already sleeping. But she finds herself curling up and drifting off as the stars fall around her is teeny twinkling bursts. They shower sparkles over her until her skin is enticingly and richly spangled with them.  _

_ She feels celestial. Ethereal.  _

_ They dust her lashes and glittery her hair.  _

_ She feels pleasantly absent.  _

_ And the humming grows. She opens her mouth and the stars flutter onto her tongue. When she swallows them they taste of powdered sugar and passionfruit. She thinks that there is a hint of blueberry.  _

_ And somehow she is certain that these are the tastes of the cosmos, truly.  _

_ They stars swirl around her and they ask her if she is okay.  _

_ She nods.  _

_ They tell her that, that is good.  _

_ She nods again.  _

_ They tell her that it is fine, that she can talk to them.  _

_ She says that she doesn’t know what to talk about--her voice tastes like blackberry and cherry. _

_ They ask her if she is awake. _

She rolls over and rubs the blur out of her eyes. Her lower lip trembles and she can’t say why. The rays of the sun cast a light on longing. Longing for what they have stolen from her by falling over her face. 

“Are you awake?” Seicho asks. 

She sits up a sweep of sleep tangled locks spill over her shoulders. 

“Oh good, because I’m hungry and I’m having trouble getting the fire started.”

Azula wants to ask her why she doesn’t just use her bending but she can’t find her parchment. 

“Did you sleep well?” 

Azula nods. 

She smiles, “you didn’t wake up in the middle of the night for once. I can tell you a story before bed again if it helps.”

She isn’t sure that that has anything to do with her ability to stay asleep, neither is she sure that she  _ doesn’t  _ want another story.

.oOo.

Her party is small. Small and foreign. Not one of them knows any of the others. And that’s where the real excitement lies. They have a whole glimmering glacier to explore, and yet the thrill lies in exploring each other. Navigating each other’s brains and auras and personalities until they know them as sure as their own. 

TyLee is certain that they don't see it this way. They probably aren’t thinking of auras at all. They are thinking of adventure and sightseeing and once in a lifetime views. She is thinking of the very same. But she is anticipating the fireside conversations much more than anything the glaciers and their tunnels will have to offer.

There is something enticing about being one of the first Fire Nationals to embark on a wintery expedition. Much of the trek to the glacier is uneventful, she finds herself fully engrossed in keeping her footing in the snow and not losing sight of her party when the snow begins to fall more intensely. And the weight of her pack isn’t so pleasant either, she isn’t used to carrying something so heavy for so long. 

A quick scan of their faces shows that her companions wouldn’t be up for conversation either, even if she had been. Apparently even the seasoned explorers are struggling. She wonders what they must make of her. 

Likely they think she is a burden. She wonders if she is slowing them down. If they resent her for it, if they regret bringing her along. 

She isn’t watching her footing, she stumbles and topples into the snow.

“You alright down there?” The woman extends a hand. 

“I’m fine, really cold though.” She shivers and shakes the snow out of her hair. “I just can’t get the hang of these things.” She lifts her snowshoes one after the other. 

One of the men laughs, “usually takes more than one trip to get used to them.”

“You had to get used to them?” 

“I’m from the Earth Kingdom. The part I live in doesn’t get much snow.” 

She readjusts her snowshoes and they continue. She finds the silence to be slightly less uncomfortable. How funny it is that breaking the ice beneath her feet would be a conversational ice breaker.

**.oOo.**

Azula is growing used to the hike. Growing used to feeling sticky and dirty. She supposes that if she can adjust to the discomforts of a straightjacket then other, lesser, discomforts will be manageable. 

“We should be at the ruins tomorrow.” Seicho notes as she douses the fire. 

‘Good’ Azula writes. She is running out of parchment, energy, and willpower. More often than not she finds herself distant. She thinks of the stars of their powdered sugar and passionfruit tang. She wonders if that is what the Spirit World is like. She wonders if the Spirit World would be kind to her given her history or if she’d just be swapping one pain for a new kind. 

Whatever the case, she finds that she likes sleeping and dreaming more than she enjoys the physical world. And Agni, she had only had one dream. Just a small taste was more than enough to leave her yearning for something kinder. 

For a world where there are only twinkling galaxies and sweetly murmuring voices. For a world where her own voice can murmur. For a world where she has nothing to atone for. No one to miss because no one else exists. 

She thinks that TyLee would have liked the starry hand…

She stares up at the ceiling of the tent. How many times has she shifted positions now?

She closes her eyes and tries to dream. But her head is cluttered. Cluttered with old arguments on a steady replay and visions of tears. The sound her TyLee’s wimpers play in her mind with such clarity that she might as well be next to her.

She rolls over again and grips her hands over her head. 

It will be over soon, she promises herself. One way or the other she will have sleep and quiet.

“Hey.” Seicho whispers. 

Azula inhales sharply and turns to face her.

“Trouble sleeping?”

She wonders what gave her the first clue.

“I can tell you about the time when I found the ruins.” 

Azula nods and inches a little closer to the woman. She cannot sleep so she will settle for a story. For a lesser escape. 

**.oOo.**

“I thought that we’d have reached the glacier by now.” Says the woman who had helped her up. Evidently TyLee has been thinking the same. 

“It’s a day or so out yet, Tuya.” Says the eldest of the group. “We’ll make it there by sun down tomorrow. “For now we’ll set up camp and make ourselves cozy.”

“How do we get cozy and warm in a place like this?” TyLee asks. 

It would seem that it is quite simple; the right gear and a well maintained fire are the key elements. A communal tent and a warm meal are important aspects. The Earthbender, Keyhyun, stirs a fine soup. She hasn’t tasted it yet but it smells pleasant. 

“So, Keyhyun, what brings you from the Earth Kingdom to the poles?” Tuya asks. She points at the eldest man, “Tanak is an archeologist and Natuk makes a hobby of exploring glaciers, what about you?”

Keyhyun shrugs. “Earth Kingdom gets boring after a while. Where I come from it’s all rolling grasslands and some hills.”

“So you traded plain grasslands for plain snow mounds?” Natuk nudges the man. 

“At least snow mounds glitter. Grass just…” he makes a swishing gesture. 

They share a laugh.

“What about you?” Tuya asks. “We never get Fire Nationals.”

“And I’ve had too many of them.” She tries to laugh. 

“Good one.” Natuk slaps his knee. 

“Glad that we have a least one clever person on this trip.” Tuya comments.

TyLee’s tummy flutters, the grin that spreads across her face is near involuntary. Clever! Someone thinks that she is clever! Usually clever is Azula’s job…

And maybe it isn’t that she was never clever. Maybe it was that Azula preferred her to keep silent and let her do all of the planning. Maybe it was that Azula didn’t hadn’t given her a chance to be clever. Maybe it was that Mai saw her as clueless and she didn’t have the will or desire to be anything else. Not when that would set a higher bar. She bites the inside of her cheek; maybe the two of them had been holding her back. And maybe doing so made them feel more secure. 

Indeed, she has had too many Fire Nationals. Too many standards and ill tempers and rigid perfection…

“Your soup’s ready.” Keyhyun announces.

Tanak passes her a bowl. Her smile returns.

**.oOo.**

She isn’t sure at first, what she is seeing. At first she thinks that the woman has eaten something poisonous during their trek. Her silent shudders are haunting. Seicho isn’t sure what she will do if the woman stops moving. 

Her concern waynes only slightly when it occurs to her that the woman isn’t seizing, she is crying. Quietly crying. She doesn’t know why she hadn’t considered that the woman couldn’t even utter a sound to cry.

And somehow it is more haunting than a forlorn wail piercing the night. It is such a silent sorrow. Frankly, she isn’t sure that the woman would make a sound even if she could. And she ponders upon whether or not she should approach the woman at all. But Agni does it hurt to see her like this.

“Hey.” She finally musters up the courage. 

The woman doesn’t turn. She wraps her arms more tightly around herself. 

Hesitantly, Seicho reaches out and touches the woman’s arm. She jerks and tenses. “Sorry.” She mutters, feeling the woman relax once more. Relax as far as she can, anyhow. She still shakes slightly beneath her hand. “Do you want to write what’s wrong? I can get you your parchment.”

The woman doesn’t move. Seicho gently rubs her upturned arm. “I can hold you. I’m good at hugging people.” It is a stupid thing to offer. Not once during this trip has the woman indicated that she liked being touched, much less held. She doesn’t know what else to do. “Do you want to hear another story?”

This time the woman turns to face her. 

“Here.” She dabs at the woman’s wet cheeks. “Do you want to hear more about the Hope Stone or do you want to hear one about a woman who wears a coconut mask?”

The woman points to the little flap on the ceiling and to the stars that shine through. 

“Okay, Hope Stone it is.” 


	14. The Voice Of Ice

Azula supposes that mercies come in small forms; Seicho doesn’t mention the night before. But that doesn’t mean that it isn’t still on her mind. That it isn’t making her feel jittery and out of sorts. 

Last night had been a fluke, that’s what she swears to herself. It had to be. She had let Seicho hold her with a promise that it was a one off thing. And yet it had felt so warm, she hasn’t felt warm in so long. Not since the last time TyLee had held her. She grits her teeth, Agni how she wishes she could purge the woman from her mind. 

Purge TyLee and Seicho both. 

How can she when she can still feel the weight of Seicho’s arms around her? When she can still feel the flutters of...comfort? Whatever it had been, it had taken the edge off of her distress. For just a moment, with Seicho squeezing her perhaps a little too tightly, she had felt like things might be alright. 

She had felt like she wasn’t completely unlovable.

Though she can’t shake the shame that comes with having been caught so vulnerable. Seicho has seen more than she should have. The woman is lucky that Azula has a volcano waiting for her, otherwise she would have to take her down. 

She doesn’t think that she could if she wanted to. The woman and her chatter are both so dreadfully annoying. And yet it is the only thing that interrupts her rather steady flow of dark and depressive thoughts.

Seicho pauses, puts her hands on her hips, and holds her chin high. “We made it!”

Azula tilts her head, she doesn’t see the ruins. 

“That was the steepest incline.” Seicho clarifies. “It should be smooth sailing...hiking from here on out!” She slings her arm around over Azula’s shoulders. “Just think, no more foot pain, no more sore calves.” 

Azula supposes that the prospect is nice. But she can’t imagine that the throbbing that has already worked its way into her muscles will subside just because they are on flatter ground. She decides that she won’t sully the woman’s mood by saying as much. 

**.oOo.**

Clever.

Cheerful, good spirited.

Resourceful. 

TyLee would have never thought herself resourceful and spirits does it make her feel light and fluttery to hear it. Smart, she realizes. It makes her feel smart. To finally have a mind of her own and use it.

“You’re a natural at this.” Tayul winks. 

“Guess we can’t make any firebender in the snow jokes on this expedition.”  Keyhyun chuckles. 

“You can!” TyLee giggles. “As long as I get to make earthbender jokes.” 

She looks at her handiwork, Tuya’s shoes look good as new. An hour or so into their trek, the woman’s crampons had snapped. She’d insisted that she would be perfectly fine without them, but the truth was that it had slowed her down significantly. She had no traction and her slipping and sliding wasn’t ideal especially when they were nearing a formation that  Natuk called ‘the crevice’. 

Tanak  had brought them to a halt. The man had declared that he wasn’t willing to approach the crevice with Tuya so unsteady on her feet. The murmur of disappoint met shimmered bleakly through everyone’s auras. And guilt had stained Tuya’s to an unbearable degree. 

TyLee found herself looking all about the glacier and then her eyes had fallen upon a rock formation. “Keyhyun, can you earthbend new crampons for her? You can make the...uh…” she gestured to the bottoms of her own footwear. 

“Soles?”

TyLee had nodded. “Soles! You can shape new soles that fit around her old ones and you can leave the rocks rough like spikes!”

It probably isn’t the most ideal thing in the world, but Tuya treks on with as much speed and stability as before. Just as quickly as the disappointment had sullied their auras, it dissipated into delight. 

And, in this moment, nothing is more delightful than the world around her. She has never seen anything like it at all in the Fire Nation. She had thought that her first step into the glacier had been thrilling. This...this is something new entirely. Something otherworldly! Something extraordinary enchanting! From floor to ceiling, everything is ice. It is perfectly polished and smooth along the walls of the frigid tunnel and bumpy like large, frozen bubbles on the ceiling. The ground is more or less rocky with patches of ice here and there, thicker in some spots than in others. It is slick and wet and rocky. The ice above, depending on thickness, comes in different shades of teal and blue and when enough light hits it, a glowing white. And when chatter comes to a stop, she can hear the glacier whispering to her. The hisses and pops of the ice all around speak to her like a forlorn spirit. It is haunting and mystifying all at once. 

It has been like this for an hour now but she still isn’t over its majesty. The world itself has an aura and it is clean as only ice and frost can be. Coming to the tower of icicles is nothing like she could ever hope to describe. She could go home and gush to Zuko about it right now but no words could convey just what looking at the structure induced in her soul. It is many tiered and glittering with a razorlike beauty. Like perfectly spread frosting on a well sculpted and baked cake. She wonders how it had come to take shape. 

She closes her eyes and breaths the glacier in. Savors the cold. Listens to the ghostly hum of the tunnel. 

She thinks that it is spiriting her trepidations away. Purifying and rejuvenating her aura. Spirits, she hadn’t realized how grey her aura had become until the glacier touched it with its icy fingers. 

**.oOo.**

The ruins are far less impressive than she had anticipated and she hadn’t anticipated them being impressive to begin with. It is little more than a small, collapsed, and overgrown shrine. Jungle weeds and vines weep from its stony orifices. Tattered banners flap in the entry way while broken wind chimes clack against one another. Several of them have fallen to the floor and cracked in half. 

“The spirits usually hang out by the statue.” She points to an aged rock lionturtle. Moss crawls over its stone shell and creates green tears down its eyes. 

‘I don’t see any.’ She etches into the ground with a stick. 

Seicho taps her chin. “Well I did spot them during a full moon. Maybe it needs to be a full moon? Or nightfall?” 

Wind howls through the dilapidated doorway of the shrine. 

“Or maybe they’re inside?” 

Azula shrugs and takes the first step towards the shrine. It isn’t the weather that chills her so much as the atmosphere of the place. It is gloomy and dank as Mai. She scowls, even this place has more joy than Mai. Her face bunches at the face conjured in her mind. 

Next to her Seicho shivers. 

‘Was it this dismal when you visited the first time?’ 

Seicho thinks for a moment. “I didn’t get this close to it, I was watching the spirits from a distance so I never really got a feeling for their energy. 

Just perfect. The woman has led her here not knowing what to expect. ‘Spirits don’t like me as it is, Seicho…’

“You’ll be fine. It’s not like they can steal your voice again.”

‘I still have working eyes and ears. I would like to keep those.’ She wipes that message away. ‘And besides, the one that took my voice isn’t here.’

“How do you know!? We haven’t even gone inside.”

‘Don’t need to. Can’t feel that spirit’s energy.’ She taps the stick before continuing. ‘It had a distinct energy, I would know it.’

Seicho nods. “Well you don’t want to go in and have a look around?”

Azula rolls her eyes. ‘Do you make a hobby of making spirits angry?’

She chuckles. “You think that I have a hobby of making spirits angry? You’re the one who can’t…”

Azula scowls and her grip tightens around the stick, it nearly snaps and she very nearly chucks it at the woman. She keeps herself composed, at least somewhat. She tosses the stick aside with more force than she ought and turns back the way they came. 

“Wait!” Seicho calls. “It was a joke, I was joking. It was a stupid joke.” 

Azula doesn’t slow, she has wasted enough time anyhow. It is time to get to her real objective. 

“Where are you going?” Seicho calls again, panting as she hastens her pace to catch up. “You really aren’t going to try to see if the spirit that took your voice is in there?”

Even if she hadn’t tossed her sticks she sees no point in explaining that she had never intended to find the damn thing at all. Instead she digs out her parchment and writes a heavy handed, ‘go home.’

Seicho flinches. “We are.”

_ ‘We  _ aren’t doing anything.’ She is going to the volcano. Seicho’s lower lip quivers and Azula has a decent feeling that the woman will be following her to the volcano. Decidedly, it is her own fault if she sees something that she can’t handle. 

“I was hoping that, maybe we can go to Chan’s beach party. This expedition went a lot quicker than I thought it would…”

And yet it seemed to drag on and on for her. 

“We can probably make it back on time to go. And this time I can walk you through it so it won’t be as awkward.” 

She couldn’t be any less interested. ‘No.’

Seicho swallows. “Okay we can just, uh, stroll through the jungle.”

‘Leave me.’

Seicho shakes her head, she is getting teary eyed and Azula can’t possibly imagine why. 

‘Fine, follow me.’ 

She fixes her eyes upon the volcano, it is much closer to the ruins than she had anticipated. At least she has that going for her. 


	15. Retribution Walk

There is a relief that comes with the knowledge that her journey is almost through and what a painful and hellish journey right to the very end. She hurts all over, in and out. But it doesn’t matter because the pain can’t follow her where she is going.

She certainly hopes that it can’t. 

Seicho blabbers on and on behind her but she is far past listening or caring. The stories had been nice, those little gestures and soft words…

They aren’t enough. 

They aren’t enough and they sting as much as they help. It should be TyLee speaking them. And even if it had been, she wouldn’t have deserved them. She doesn’t deserve help now and so she won’t take it. 

“Seriously. Slow down.”

She hastens her pace if for no other reason than to push a message through. 

Her belly rumbles and her throat begs for something to alleviate the dryness. She doesn’t have time to attend these needs. They are trivial anyhow. Null and pointless. The volcano is so close that she can taste sulphur and retribution on her tongue. She thinks that the two might share a taste.

She isn’t sure that the lava will be enough to cleanse her spirit and the demons that plague her emotions. She is lost, lost beyond finding. Beyond salvation. 

She is scared. 

Scared and alone. 

Scared and determined. 

**.oOo.**

Tuya passes her a bowl of tentacle soup. TyLee doesn’t mean to be rude but she crinkles her nose. “Can I get something less...uh…” she jabs at the little suction cups, “tentacle-y?”

Tuya laughs. “Arctic hen or sea prune stew?” 

“Oh either one of those would be great.” She smiles. “Arctic hen sounds good though.” Mostly she just wants to smell the fire that it will be cooked over. She can’t help but miss the Fire Nation at least a little especially on the nights when the wind whips merciless flurries at the walls and the arctic fox-wolves howl. Fire smells cozy. It smells like home. Not that Tuya hasn’t made her feel like she is at home still. 

It has been more than wonderful to learn about domestic life in the tribes. It is as cozy and mundane as the glacier was chilling and grand. She thinks that she likes the simplicity of bundling herself up in heavy furs--so long as she doesn’t think of the hunting it took to get them. Though she has come to respect the hunters and their rituals. 

She tries to imagine herself snuggled up with a new lover by the fire but she can only picture Azula and Mai. Despite it all, she misses them too. But she doesn’t miss the way that they made her feel when it got bad…

“I said, do you want some seasoning on your arctic hen?”

“Oh!” TyLee exclaims, “yeah, that sounds nice, just a little though. Too much seasoning tickles my nose.” 

Tuya laughs, “you remind me of my twin.”

“You have a twin?”

“Yatu.” She smiles. “He went out with the last hunting party, they should be back soon.” 

“Do you think that he could teach me about hunting?”

“You want to hunt?”

TyLee shakes her head vigorously. “Oh no, I could never bring myself to actually do it. I just wanted to learn about some of the hunting rituals.” 

“I’m sure that he’d like to do that, he loves talking about his hunts.” She hands TyLee a platter of arctic hen. “Now enjoy your meal and I can tell you some of my favorite folktales.”

TyLee grins. “I have a few from the Fire Nation!”

She takes a bite. The arctic fox-wolves howl into the storm, one long and drawn out call after the next. And, later on, when she lays her head back and really listens, she swears that she can hear the arctic lights singing. 

**.oOo.**

It is so close now and her feet are so sore. The woman hasn’t paused once since leaving the ruins, not to sleep, not to eat. Seicho has had walk and eat at the same time, nearly stumbling several times. 

And now their trek is almost finished. The volcano looms overhead jagged, burnt black, and sinister. A hateful mound with a simmering core. Seicho’s stomach flutters with anxious anticipation. 

“Can we slow down?” Seicho asks again, huffing and panting. She is drenched in sweat and ready to topple. She doesn’t know how the woman can manage, especially since she hasn’t eaten or drank a thing. Either the woman is used to this sort of thing or she just doesn’t care at all. 

Or maybe she is just so frighteningly distraught that she doesn’t feel anything but whatever torments her. 

Seicho has a fear of her own, a distress of her own. A yelling, yowling demon and the woman is rousing it awake. She is digging up dark treasures that she isn’t aware of at all. She is carrying the skeletons to the surface without even realizing that there are bones in her hands. 

The shadow of the volcano falls over them. It sends a chill through her entire being. She very nearly laughs. She has to, afterall, the whole endeavor has been one big joke. She has a feeling that the woman thinks so too. She has a feeling that the woman has a lot of unsavory opinions despite everything. They reach the foot of the volcano and Seicho reaches her breaking point.

“You think that I don’t know what this is?!” Seicho damn near shrieks. “You think that I don’t know what this whole quest has been about?”

The woman stares almost blankly at her. There is a glimmer of resentment or annoyance.

“I know that you think I am, but I’m not clueless.” She bunches her fists. “It was all...it was all bullshit! The ruins, the spirit, of course you didn’t even want to check them out! You’ve never even been in this jungle before.”

The woman turns around to continue her stride. But Seicho has reached her limit, she has reached several of them. She grabs her by the shoulder and turns her around. “You just played along to appease me so that you can…” she gestures to the volcano. “Chara, my sister, she did the same thing. She didn’t ‘just not come home’ one day. I saw her swim out into the ocean…” Her voice breaks, falters. She is shaking. “I told my parents that I had no idea what happened to her because I knew how they would feel.”

For a moment, she thinks that the woman will change her mind. She shakes Seicho off of her and makes the final few steps to the base of the volcano with a renewed vigor. She watches the woman take the first few steps onto it and resents the earthbending ancients who had carved a convenient little staircase into the volcano’s rim.

“Go ahead!” She shouts. “Stairs or not, it’s a long climb. You won’t even be able to make it to the top.”

She isn’t deterred. Seicho hadn’t expected her to be, she has been nothing but persistent and stubborn. But it doesn’t matter, when a body is spent, it is spent. Especially if the mind that inhibits it is twice as exhausted. 

She follows the woman up the stairs, she has to give her credit, she makes it a little more than halfway up. She topples and Seicho nearly goes with her. She braces herself against the rocks and heaves her back up. She removes her pack and has herself a real meal before lifting the woman up and beginning the daunting trip back down. 

With luck, they will be a good distance from the volcano by the time she wakes up. 

With luck, Seicho will be able to handle whatever fit she will throw upon doing so. 


	16. The Quiet After The Eruption

The fit she throws isn’t the one that Seicho had expected. What she had expected were pillars of fire and a barrage of cutting words, etched heavy-handedly into the sand. She thinks that the one she got is infinitely worse. 

They are miles away from the volcano and the woman knows it. She sees it in her mute screams of frustration and rage. Those soundless cries put a unique sense of discomfort in her like no other at all. 

The woman is truly suffering in silence in every sense of the phrase and Seicho wonders if it is even possible to relieve her of it. She tries anyways. Tries despite how much the woman must irreparably and unapologetically resent her.

The woman’s face is red, strained, tearstained. Seicho pulls her into her arms and squeezes. Tighter than she has ever. Tighter than she has even held her own sister. She couldn’t save her from herself. She can’t save this woman from herself either. But she can at least try to get this woman to try to save herself.

She presses the woman’s cheek against her chest. Her sobs send tremors through Seicho’s body. She is somehow tense and limp all at once. And those tears; she wishes that the woman could make a sound, it would be so much less unnerving. 

All the same she doesn’t want to even imagine how tormented they would sound. 

Seicho doesn’t know what else to do she rests her head on the woman’s and rubs her back over and over again until her cries let up at least a little. She is so terribly broken. Behind all of that resentment and beneath-the-surface rage is mountains of hurt. Perhaps fear. Certainly hopelessness. The only sound she hears are the woman’s soft, gasping breaths and occasionally small wheezes that are perhaps what is left of her ability to vocally cry. She hates these the most, they sound painful. She hopes that they aren’t truly so, the woman is in enough pain.

“Let’s get you back home.” Seicho finally says after at least twenty more minutes of letting the woman weep freely. “Your brother’s probably worried.”

‘He doesn’t care about me.’ She drags her pointer through the dirt. Her hand is still shaking, Seicho feels it when she takes it in her own. 

“We’ll see about that.” Seicho mutters softly as she scoops the woman into her arms once more. She huffs, even with a good break, the woman is growing quite heavy in her sore arms. With luck she will begin walking on her own again soon. 

Though it would seem that she has thrown all of what was left of her energy and motivation into getting to that volcano. She is fresh out of willpower. 

**.oOo.**

It is strange to be back on Fire Nation land. The sand sifts like snow but it is so very different. Everything is different really; where the tribes had smelled, pure, fresh, and clean, the Fire Nation is tainted. Not necessarily in a bad way but the air isn’t pure it is dashed heavily with smoke and spices and cooked meat, there is a bite of sulfur that she is no longer used to. 

It is loudner too, much more bustling and clamoring. Where there had been arctic fox yowls and yips there is now the howl of vendors shouting over one another to draw attention. The crunch of snow beneath feet is swapped out for the crunch of gravel beneath carts. 

More people are out and about and TyLee almost longs to get right back on the airship and take Tuya’s offer to visit again. She knows that she will eventually, just not so soon. 

Evidently, she isn’t sure where she is going to go now. She isn’t sure what the Fire Nation can possibly offer her when all of the real excitement is to be had in the frigid mysteries of the poles and their glaciers. 

Maybe she will go back to performing. Perhaps theater or dance or try to join a band and sing. That is what she will do, she decides. She will dabble in everything that she can, try a bit of this and then a bit of that until she finally discovers which hobbies suit her best. 

Until she discovers what she truly loves not what she has been forced or coerced into loving.

Once she does that, she will muster up the courage to confront Mai. 

Just maybe she will find the bravery to confront Azula again, this time unwaveringly. 

And perhaps she will end up severing old bonds completely. 

It might be that, that is part of the healing process. 

**.oOo.**

Seicho cares for her much more than she ought to. She does most of the foraging and cooking. She sets up all of the shelters. Occasionally Azula lights a fire for her. But mostly Azula lays quietly. Resigned. There isn’t really anything for her to do. She hasn’t anything to work for, nothing to aspire to be. She doesn’t have the compulsion to find anything. She has no purpose nor capacity to care. And yet she has failed to end herself and, by extension, the expanse of bleak and unremarkable nothingness laid out in front of her.

She sits with her legs drawn up to her chest and stares almost unblinkingly into the fire.

“We’re about a day away from the beach.” Seicho remarks. “The one we met on.”

She had gotten the point the first time. Perhaps Seicho thinks her stupid. And perhaps Seicho is right. She doodles lazy spirals in the dirt. 

“How can I help you?” Seicho asks. “I want to, but I don’t know how.”

Azula shrugs. She isn’t sure either. She isn’t sure that she wants help. She might very well like to watch herself fall and fall until she falls away completely. There is the faintest little itch, a residue of her former self that compels her to cling on for just a little longer. 

It is easy to shut out. 

But Seicho doesn’t let her. She takes her hand and holds it against her cheek. Azula isn’t sure what the gesture is supposed to mean. A sign of affection probably, but Azula isn’t used to that anymore. Isn’t sure how to take it. 

“I’m glad that you didn’t make it up that volcano.”

For the first time in a few days Azula responds. She replies with a simple, ‘why’. 

Seicho shrugs. “I just like you. I just have a feeling, ya know?”

She doesn’t. 

“I like telling you stories.” She continues. “You’re the only one who listens. I mean really listens. Everyone pretends to listen to me they say ‘mmhmm’ and ‘yeah’ but they don’t really listen. They always talk over me…”

Then Azula supposes that she has found the perfect companion. 

“And you don’t do that.”

She makes out to scrawl a, ‘because I can’t’, but Seicho continues. “You might not be able to talk but you can still ignore me…”

Oh she highly doubts that…

“But you don’t. I bet that if I asked you to repeat everything we’ve talked about you’d be able to write it all out. Because you don’t just listen, you pay attention.”

Finally she writes, ‘people know how to ignore you?’

“They’re really good at it.”

‘Maybe they can teach me.’

Seicho laughs. Azula isn’t sure if it is a bitter laugh or a genuine one. “Thanks for listening to me ramble. I guess it was kind of a hostage situation.”

Azula nods, indeed it was. Though she supposes it was probably one of the better wastes of her time. At least this time around her failure won’t result in raised voices and shaming words. 

Seicho is unusually quiet for a very long time before she finally asks, “do you really want to go?”

Azula furrows her brows.

“If you want to...you know, I’ll let you do it. I won’t leave until it’s over but I’ll let you do it. If it hurts that much…”

It takes her a moment to put two and two together and her stomach grows queasy when she does.

“I mean I don’t want you to but I guess that it’s kind of cruel to make you live if…” 

Azula shakes her head. She doesn’t think that the woman means it. She can’t, not after everything. 

“So, is that what you want?”

Azula swallows. Suddenly she isn’t so sure. She is sure of one thing, she just wants everything to stop hurting. 

Seicho seems to smile. “It isn’t, is it?”

At last, Azula shakes her head no. 

Seicho grins wider, “I was hoping that you’d say that.” And then much quieter, “I had a feeling that you would.”

More than anything, Azula just wants the pain to stop. She just wants to feel loved and lovable. She just wants to stop hurting everyone around her. A sense of control would be really nice too and a touch of dignity and honor. Confidence.

But first things first.

She lets Seicho give her a small squeeze before she pulls out her parchment and brushes. Slowly and elegantly she scrawls upon the parchment, ‘Azula.’

Seicho cocks her head and Azula points to herself. Seicho smiles, “your name is Azula?”

She nods. 


	17. A Few Miles

It is different now she isn't sure how but somehow it just is. The air still swelters but she doesn’t feel so sapped and spent by it. The sun is no brighter than before, but it kisses her skin with more pleasantry. Azula stops and uncorks her waterskin. She has a small sip, enough to alleviate the dryness in her throat without draining it completely. 

“We only have a few miles to go.” Seicho notes. 

Azula nods. She thinks it bittersweet that their journey is coming to an end just as she is starting to see the worth of embarking upon it. But then, it is just as well, they are running low on supplies and she would like to sleep on a bed again. Would like to wear some clean clothes. 

She is also back to speaking through snapped twigs and fire now that she has used up all of the parchment. Mostly this is okay, but there are some things that are significantly harder to convey without it. Things such as, ‘look out for that spider-wasp’. Usually by the time she gets the message across, the sting has already happened. 

She can also do without having sore feet and red, blistered ankles. Seicho sits her down and purses her lips, “you have your shoes laced way too tightly.” 

‘I was tired of dirt getting into them.’

“Yes, well now your ankles are swollen. Look at this!” She gestures to Azula’s throbbing ankles. “I already carried you down the side of a volcano and then some, don’t expect me to carry you anymore.” 

Azula shrugs and carefully rolls her ankles, trying to work out at least some of the knots. 

“We can take a break.” 

She doesn’t leave any room for protest, not that Azula has any this time around. Her ankles aside, she still finds herself somewhat hazy and disoriented. She hasn’t exactly had a moment to process the events of this hike. She supposes that the time will come when she is lounging in the beach house. Even still she isn’t sure of how she should be feeling. There is relief sure and a refreshing helping of euphoria. But it is still there, the stresses and the sadness of a loss that she hasn’t quite accepted yet. Two of them actually and she doesn’t know which stings more the absence of her voice or the absence of TyLee. 

That isn’t true. She misses TyLee terribly. 

But, Agni, if she doesn’t feel somehow lighter regardless. Especially when she hears Seicho laugh. She isn’t sure what the woman is laughing at, but it takes some tension out of her. 

Azula stares at the sky, it is cast in a haze of orange and gold with splashes of pink just on its fringes, where the clouds linger. Likely they will make it back to the beach just after nightfall. 

**.oOo.**

The atmosphere around Azula has changed notably, it is less tense, if only a little and she is significantly easier to talk to. Less hostile and standoffish. Seicho thinks that she must have burned herself out on resentment and is now left with a bizarre sense of peace. Albeit, a fragile sense of it.

She is more willing to talk now. If only that hadn’t wasted all of the parchment. So Seicho does most of the talking. 

Several times, the woman stops to frown and massage her ankles. 

“Do they hurt that much?”

‘I’ll manage’.

Seicho sighs, she supposes that they don’t have that far to go and if she can carry the woman down the side of a volcano then she can manage this. She scoops her into her arms, ignoring gestures and facial expressions of protest. “It’s probably better if you don’t push your luck, it takes a while to heal broken ankles. I’m assuming that you like being able to walk.”

Azula nods and settles into the woman’s arms with no further qualms. She closes her eyes, leaving Seicho to drink in the flutter of the palm fronds and the squeaks, squaks, and chitters of the jungle critters as the hastily make way for the night dwellers. 

“It’s a beautiful night.” Seicho notes. She feels Azula nod her head affirmatively. 

Without the ability to scrawl messages in the dirt and too close to Seicho to make any fire without hindering their hike, the woman is once again as silent as ever. So Seicho fills it for the both of them, “Maybe I can spend the night at your house? I think that it might be closer than mine.” 

Azula doesn’t answer in favor nor in protest. 

“I’d like to keep talking to you, if you don’t mind.” She still isn’t sure how the woman feels about her. She does know that she has taken a shine to her though. “I can introduce you to my brother. I can also show you some of the pottery I made.” Every now and then, Azula meets her gaze. “I can teach you to make pottery too if you don’t mind getting clay on your hands.” 

Azula gives another nod. Seicho isn’t sure if it had been an agreeing one or a disproving one. 

The next time that she makes an attempt to speak, it is to direct Seicho to her beach house. It is only when she stands before it that she finally connects the dots that she probably should have connected right when the woman scrawled her name down. 

“It’s huge.” She remarks, mouth agape. Huge and fancy, standing out like a gleaming candle under the freshly risen moon. 

Azula,  _ princess  _ Azula, gestures to be put down. She winces slightly when her full weight is shifted back onto her ankles, though she makes her way up the stairs anyhow and beckons for Seicho to follow. 

Her head is still reeling with the seemingly sacred knowledge that the  _ crown princess _ , at the very height of her power, had used her head as a cupholder. Seicho chuckles to herself as she follows the woman into her vacation home. 

“Do you need me to call out and tell Zuko that you’re home?”

Azula shakes her head. Apparently she has a much funner way of doing so. She wanders up to the decorative gong at the far end of the room and gives it a very sturdy strike. Seicho hears a thud overhead followed by a string of curses and a very self-satisfied smirk from Azula as she fixes the mallet back in place. 

The Fire Lord emerges from the stairwell. “Ravaa’s tendrils, Azula! What the hell!?”

‘I’m home.’ She spells plainly in flame. 

“Clearly.” He grumbles and rubs the back of his sleep tousled hair. Alright, so it was several hours into the night when they emerged from the jungle. A little later than Seicho had anticipated. “Where the hell were you?”

‘Jungle.’

“I thought that you told him you left.” Seicho frowns. The words leave her mouth before she recalls that the woman wasn’t planning on coming back at all. She stares at the Fire Lord. He doesn’t know how close he had come to leaving Ember Island by his lonesome. 

Azula shrugs. ‘I did.’ 

“I thought that you were just going for a day-long hike.” 

‘Your assumptions are your own fault.’ 

Zuko exhales. 

The gravity of bringing the princess home is accentuated by her brother pulling her into a tight embrace. Her cheek smooshes against his chest, the rest of her face bunched up in disapproval as though the hug were a minor inconvenience to her brooding. He would probably hug her tighter still if he did know how close he had come to losing her.

**.oOo.**

Azula breaks away from the embrace and gestures to Seicho. Zuko gives her a small wave, “who are you?”

Seicho sticks her hand out. “I’m Seicho. Azula and I went on a...camping trip.”

Azula breathes a sigh of relief. For as chatty as she is, at least the woman knows what things to leave unsaid. She isn’t sure when or how she will tell Zuko of her unfinished intentions. She isn’t sure that she will tell him at all. It hadn’t come to fruition, so really there is no sense in brining it up at all. 

She wanders her way to the nearest chair, flops down, and tugs off her boots. The relief is almost instantaneous, though she knows very well that her ankles will still be swollen and sore in the morning. 

Zuko takes notice. “What happened.”

“She was wearing her boots too tight. Apparently swollen ankles are better than dirty feet.” 

Azula gives a haughty and dismissive sniff. 

“Nothing some ice can’t fix.” 

‘Good luck finding ice on Ember Island.’ Her statement dissipates in a curl of smoke. 

“I’ve been living here my whole life, I know where to find ice.” Seicho shrugs. “We’ll have to wait until tomorrow though.”

Azula doesn’t have any qualms about that. She is tired. Extremely so. She can already feel herself drifting out. Though she isn’t sure if the exhaustion is physical or mental. She thinks that it might be a combination of both. 

“Do you want to spend the night here?” Zuko offers.

“That would be great.” Seicho replies. She spares Azula a glance. The princess isn’t sure what to make of the look. “You going to walk yourself to bed?”

Azula shakes her head, she will just sleep here. She is too sore and spent to do anything else. Seicho leaves her no room for protest before picking her up again. “Which way to your room?”

“Her room is the third door to the right.” Zuko fills in. 

Seicho sets her down on the mattress with a foreign sort of gentleness. And she pulls the covers up to her shoulders with a cheerful smile. It is surreal to be on the receiving end of such care--to be so suddenly and fully struck by the realization that she has been for a while. It is just one more thing that her mind has to catch up to and process. 

Someone cares for her. 

Enough to tuck her in. 

Enough to put up with her moods.

Enough to carry her so far away from her own dark ambitions. 

At least this realization, though just as jarring as every other thing that still has to settle in her mind, is pleasant. Soothing. Something that she can cling to and fight for. 

“Good night, princess.” 

She mouths a good night in return. 

“I’ll show you to the guest room.” Zuko offers. He lingers in the doorway for a moment. She thinks that he wants to say something. Though, ultimately, he decides to let her get to sleep. 

Her dreams are kind. 


End file.
